


To The Wolves

by chasingstarfall



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU too, How Do I Tag, M/M, Mystery, Some Humor, Supernatural Elements, kind of, lots of awkwardness idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4269483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingstarfall/pseuds/chasingstarfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew just wanted to spend some quality, peaceful time with his dad at the family's Canadian lodge.<br/>However, a recent string of mysterious accidents and an encounter with a strange man named Gilbert turns Matthew's life completely upside down, and he finds himself thrown headfirst into a world of darkness, deceit, and secrets. Will Matthew be able to discover the truth behind it all before it's too late?</p>
<p>"I don't mean this to sound rude or anything but... what exactly <i>are</i> you?"<br/>"Awesome?"<br/>"Gil, I'm being serious."<br/>"So am I."</p>
<p>(Originally posted on ff.net like a million years ago)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, Nancy Drew, or anything else, no matter how much I wish I did.

 

 

_To the wolves_  
_You left me to the wolves_  
_Thought it was me and you against the world_  
_But you left me to the wolves  
_**To The Wolves-Anberlin**__

* * *

 

17-year-old Matthew Williams approached the lodge as a feeling of warmth filled his chest with a sort of nostalgic joy. How long had it been since he had last visited this place? 11, 12 years now? He smiled softly, tugging on his maple leaf patterned scarf to tighten its hold around his chilled lips. Icicle Creek Lodge held such dear memories for him. His blue-violet eyes scanned the snowcapped landscape fondly before landing on what appeared to be some sort of bunkhouse. Glancing a bit farther to the right, the Canadian noticed a peculiar looking snow structure. Must be some sort of fort, he thought as he shuffled his way over towards it, being careful not to slip on the icy pavement.  
Matthew’s movements toward the fort were suddenly brought to a halt, however, due to the fact that a large snowball had flown through the air and hit him square in the face, almost knocking the Canadian’s glasses off his face. He flung his arms out in order to regain his lost balance.

“You have dared to approach the great fortress of Peter the Great! What have you to say for yourself?” an accented voice ( _British?_ Matthew questioned) called out.

“E-eh?” Matthew muttered.

“What have you to say for yourself?” the voice repeated.

“I-I’m sorry?” Matthew replied with uncertainty. Honestly, he was beyond confused about what was going on at this point.

The voice huffed. “That is all you have to say? I will not accept it! State your business here or feel the wrath of my snowball army!”  
Matthew heard a bit of shuffling coming from behind the massive snow structure before a small, blue-capped head popped up over the wall. The boy’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief as he raised his arm into throwing position, a snowball already in his grasp and ready to be released. Not wanting a repeat of the previous incident, Matthew decided to try to explain himself.

“My name is Matthew,” he began, “Matthew Williams. My dad owns this lodge, eh.”

Peter’s, slightly bushy, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and his throwing arm relaxed slightly. “But the owner of this lodge is named Mr. Jones…” He snapped his arm back up into proper throwing form. “You are lying to Peter the Great!”

Matthew took a few hesitant steps backwards in order to escape the range of fire and was about it cover his face in order to protect it from further abuse when he heard a deep, authoritative voice speak up from behind him.

“P’ter.”

Peter quickly dropped the snowball from his hand and smiled nervously. “Hello, Papa,” he said innocently.

Matthew turned around and took in the towering form behind him. He squealed quietly as the man’s icy glare moved from Peter and focused in on him.

“Was he causin’ ya any pr’blems?” the intimidating man inquired in a thickly accented voice that Matthew could hardly understand. His gaze flashed over to Peter for a moment and the boy hid himself behind a pillar of snow extending from his fort.

Matthew swallowed. “N-no, sir.” The man’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he hummed in response.

“I see.” The man sighed, adjusting the rectangular shaped glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. He mumbled something in a language Matthew was a bit unfamiliar with. Perhaps Swedish? He wondered. He was brought out of his own thoughts as the man spoke up again, this time in English. “M’ name is Berwald. M’ the h’ndyman here. Peter’s m’ son.” He glanced over towards the snow fort again as Peter hid himself further. “Ya said ya were Matthew, right?” Matthew nodded, unable to form words under Berwald’s intense stare. Berwald merely hummed again. “Been expectin’ ya.”

Berwald turned on his heel and headed back towards the lodge, stopping a few feet away to glance back in Matthew’s direction. The Canadian took this as Berwald’s way of telling him to follow, so he quickly scurried after the intimidating Swede. Once Matthew was in step behind him, Berwald hummed again ( _Is that all this guy can do?_ Matthew wondered) and continued walking.

Berwald led Matthew to the front door of the lodge and opened the dark wood door so the both of them could step inside. Matthew unwrapped the scarf from his neck as Berwald tapped a bit of snow off the bottom of his boot. Matthew smiled as he took in the warmth of the familiar entryway. Sure, it had been years since he had been here, not since his parents’ divorce, but everything was still as he remembered it.

The stacked logs that composed the walls were a greyish-brown color and along the entire room, at the very top of each wall, wrapped an intricate piece of artwork that depicted the Canadian landscape and various wildlife. Matthew hung his coat up on one of the many available wooden pegs near the door, and he noticed with fondness the marks on the door frame where he and his brother had marked their heights when they were young to see how much they had grown. He had really missed this place.

“Th’s way.” Berwald’s gruff voice brought Matthew out of his reminiscing and the Canadian began to follow the man once again.

Berwald guided him to another door, which Matthew recalled led to the basement, and the two descended the creaky old stairs.

“U-um,” Matthew mumbled nervously, afraid of angering the intimidating Swede, “M-Mr. Berwald, sir?”

Berwald stopped just short of a cluttered workbench and turned to face the Canadian. “Hm?”

Matthew squeaked softly. “I’m sure you have a good reason for bringing me down here to this dark basement, but I can’t help but wonder…” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “where’s my dad?”

Berwald shot the boy another harsh look before speaking. “Not h’re.”

“E-eh?” Matthew stuttered. “What do you mean he’s not here? My brother and I are supposed to spend the next few weeks with him. Why would he be gone?”

Berwald grunted softly. “Been some… things happenin’ h’re. He had to some business t’ take care of. Said for me to h’ve ya call him when ya got h’re.” Berwald turned back to face the workbench and grabbed a small piece of paper that had been resting near a blue and yellow mug halfway filled with, now cold, coffee. “And g’ve ya this too.”

Matthew felt the paper being placed in his hand and he slowly unfolded it.

 

 

  
_Hello, boys!_  
_I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there to greet you when you arrive, but some things have come up._  
_I’ve asked the handyman, Berwald, to look after you until I can get back there. (Don’t let his looks fool you, he’s a big softie.)_  
_I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a rush, and I can’t explain everything right now, so give me a call as soon as you can. My number is on a post-it note by the phone in the check-in area. Berwald can show you if you can’t find it._  
_Again, I’m sorry I can’t be there to greet you both._  
_Call me ASAP!_  
_Love, Dad_

Matthew sighed and folded the paper back up and shoved in into the back pocket of his jeans. It was so like his dad to do something like this after all this time. He frowned and looked up the man standing before him, patiently waiting for him to finish reading.

“I guess I should call him now, eh?” Matthew asked.

Berwald responded with his signature “Hm” and a nod and began to walk back up the stairs to the main floor. Matthew followed behind sheepishly, feeling a bit more at ease around the intimidating man. Berwald led him to the check-in desk, which was directly across from the main entryway and next to a flight of stairs that led to the bedrooms on the next floor. Matthew recalled passing the desk on the way to the basement door.

“Phone’s h’re.” Berwald gestured to a white phone that sat on the other side of the desk next to a computer (which Matthew assumed contained guest information) before he turned and walked back down into the basement.

Matthew quickly noticed the bright yellow sticky note that was placed just above the phone’s number pad. He glanced over the various numbers written on it. Sheriff, Avalanche Patrol, some guy named Balducci… Ah! There’s Dad’s number!

Matthew held the receiver up to his ear as he dialed his father’s number. He answered after three rings.

“Alfred! Is that you, my boy?”

“No, Dad, it’s Matthew. Alfred won’t be here for another few days because he’s finishing up some things at school.” Matthew’s older brother, Alfred, was currently a freshman student at some university in California and was studying a science of some sort (Matthew had learned to tune out just about everything Alfred rambled on about these days, so he wasn’t completely clear about what his brother was doing), although he originally wanted to be an art student. His own lack of artistic ability was the reason for the change of major.

“Oh! Marcus! Of course!” Matthew sighed. He should have expected this as well. Matthew’s father was a very intelligent man, as well as a successful businessman, but he couldn’t remember Matthew’s name to save his life.

“It’s Matthew, eh,” the Canadian softly corrected.

“Oops! Sorry about that, Morgan!”

Matthew gave up, sighing once more. “It’s fine. Anyway, what’s going on, Dad? Why aren’t you here?”

Mr. Jones seemed to be talking to someone else on his end of the line and did not respond to Matthew’s question.

“Dad?” Matthew called.

“Sorry, my boy!” Mr. Jones chuckled. “I had to discuss something with my lawyer for a moment. Lawsuits are no simple matter, you know!”

“E-eh? Lawsuit?!” Matthew gasped. “What’s going on, Dad?”

Mr. Jones conversed with the person on his end again for a short moment before answering. “Well see… how do I put this? There have been some… strange accidents happening at the lodge recently. Just last week a man slipped on the steps out front and broke his leg, and an entire family went home sick with food poisoning! And the week before that a man was locked in the sauna downstairs during a gas leak! You can image that none were very happy with the situation, hence the lawyer I mentioned earlier. As if things weren’t bad enough, both the cook and the maid quit on me just a few days ago! I’ve got guests staying and no staff to take care of them! I’m at my wits end here, son.”

Matthew couldn’t believe what his father was telling him. “Do you have any idea what’s behind these accidents?”

Matthew heard his father sigh. “There has been a strange white wolf hanging around in the forest surrounding the lodge and… this is ridiculous… people have been blaming the creature for the strange happenings.”

“A wolf, Dad? How could a wolf be causing all these problems?!”

“I told you it was ridiculous, son. But lots of people have been putting the blame on the creature saying that it carries some sort of curse or some other kind of hoodoo. Apparently before each accident someone claims to have heard it howl. It’s hard to believe, but it’s the only explanation anyone had come up with.”

Matthew shook his head. “That’s really crazy, Dad. There’s no way a wolf or any animal could cause accidents like that. There’s got to be another explanation as to what’s going on.”

“I agree with you wholeheartedly, my boy! Which brings me to the real reason I had you call. You see-”

Mr. Jones’s sentence was cut short by the shrill howl that pierced through the air. Matthew felt a chill run down his spine at the hauntingly beautiful sound. As the final ring of the howl disappeared, silence fell, the kind of eerie silence that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end causes your while body to shiver. The silence’s spell did not last long, however, as a new, even more chilling sound rang out. It was the sound of an explosion, a rather large one at that, and Matthew’s blood ran cold. It had come from just outside the lodge.

“D-dad… I-I’ve got to go! Something just happened! My god…” The phone was dropped before Mr. Jones could even respond.

Berwald’s heavy steps could be heard thundering their way up the creaky basement steps.

“O-outside!” Matthew could barely form words, as his body was shaking in fear. “It sounded l-like an explosion!”

Berwald’s face paled as he shoved past the convulsing boy and harshly yanked his coat from the peg by the door before yanking the piece of wood open so roughly it almost came off the hinges. He seemed to be mumbling something over and over, his voice laced with fear.

After a few moments, Matthew managed to catch what he had been saying, and he felt his own heart drop into the pits of his stomach.

“P’ter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings! I started writing this a gazillion years ago, and then life got in the way and I never finished, so I decided it was about time to resurrect this brain child of mine.  
> Anyway, this is very, very loosely based on the game Nancy Drew: White Wolf of Icicle Creek (which is awesome by the way), and I’m not really going to stick to the story line of that very much, but there will be a few similarities here and there.  
> Mattie and Alfie’s dad is someone I made up, just ‘cause I needed someone to own the lodge and a reason for the boys to be there, so therefore first-name-less Mr. Jones was born. Tino Balducci is a character you can call in the actual game, and I just love his so much I couldn’t help but use his name in there.  
> So I think that’s about it from me. I hope you all enjoyed it at least a little, teensy bit, and I’ll try to update as often as I can.  
> Auf wiedersehen!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. At all. Nada.

  
_I'm insane, I am smart_  
_All it takes is a spark_  
_To ignite my bad intentions_  
_And do what I do best to your heart_  
_Don't be fooled, I was raised by the wolves_  
_Now the moon hangs in full, so you know I won't_  
_Play by the rules_  
**_Raised By Wolves-Falling in Reverse_**

* * *

 

“P’ter.”

Matthew felt like he couldn’t breathe as Berwald dashed outside, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. The rush of frigid air jump-started Matthew’s brain and he found himself grabbing his coat and following the Swede outside. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw just beyond the warm comfort of the entryway.

Flames. Smoke. Destruction.

The old bunkhouse near Peter’s snow fort was ablaze, the little that remained of it that is. The once relatively large bunkhouse was now but a burning pile of charred wood. The ground surrounding the blaze was blackened, and there were bits of debris scattered here and there, probably sent flying due to the force of the blast. Matthew couldn’t help but gasp.

The Canadian quickly caught sight of Berwald standing a few feet from the wreckage. He was desperately calling out Peter’s name. Over and over. The pure emotion, the raw fear, the Swede was expressing through that one word was almost enough to being Matthew to tears.

“M-Mr. Berwald…?” Matthew called softly. The Swede didn’t seem to have heard him.

“Mr. Berwald!” Matthew tried again, a little louder. It seemed to work, as the man turned to look at the boy who called him. His icy blue glare seemed more intense than Matthew had seen it yet. Matthew shivered at the cold look.

“Gotta find P’ter,” Berwald replied, his eyes narrowing even more.

Matthew was about to respond when he caught sight of something moving near the tree line. It was relatively small and… blue? Matthew gasped.

“There!” he cried. “There’s something there!” He held up a shaky hand and pointed towards the spot where he had seen a flash of blue. Berwald took off with speed the Canadian never imagined he could possess. Matthew followed behind as quickly as he could.

“P’ter!” the Swede called out again.

A grunt was the reply, followed by a small, “P-Papa…?” A blue-capped head popped into view as the small boy sat up from his spot in the snow.  
Berwald nearly tackled the boy back down to the ground as he wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“P’ter,” he breathed, “ya alright? What happen’d?”

Peter rubbed his head and winced. “I don’t really remember much, Papa. I was playing in my fort and then I heard this howl… after that it’s pretty fuzzy. I think there was a big boom too. The next thing I remember is waking up over here. Did something bad happen, Papa?”

Berwald pulled the child closer. “Ya. Somethin’ bad. But ‘m just glad yer safe. Love ya, P’ter.”

The boy snuggled closely against the Swede’s chest. “I love you too, Papa.”

Matthew smiled fondly at the sweet display before him. He too was relieved that Peter was safe.

Berwald stood, Peter secured tightly in his arms and began to walk back towards the lodge.

“Papa?” Peter asked.

“Hm?”

“Could we have some hot chocolate when we get inside?”

Berwald smiled softly (just a small twitch of the lip, but Matthew assumed that’s what he was doing) and nodded in agreement.

 

* * *

 

The next few hours were a blur. The police had arrived shortly after Peter had been found (apparently a guest with rather impressive eyebrows named Arthur had called them shortly after the blast; something that neither Berwald nor Matthew thought to do because they were preoccupied with finding Peter) and had questioned everyone present and investigated the bunkhouse remains extensively. They promised that they would keep Matthew and Berwald updated on the investigation us much as they could, but told them not to expect too much.

“These things take time,” they had said.

Matthew felt sick to his stomach.

It was nearly 6pm by the time the police had finally left, and Matthew was beyond exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for the next week, but, of course, nothing today was going as Matthew planned.

Matthew approached the ringing phone slowly, his feet feeling as heavy as his drooping eyelids.

“Hello?” he answered, stifling a yawn in the back of his throat.

“Mark!” called his father’s voice. “What’s going on over there? I tried calling earlier but there was no answer. Is something wrong?”

Matthew paled. He had really hoped that he wouldn’t have to be the one to break the news to his father, but the world just seemed to have it out for him today.

“Well,” he began slowly, “you see… the police just left and-”

“Police?!” Mr. Jones yelled (quite loudly, Matthew noted as he held the phone a little farther away for the sake of his aching eardrum). “What the hell is going on, Miles?!”

Matthew sighed. “You know the old bunkhouse out front, right?”

“Yes, what about it?” His father was understandably getting more irritated by Matthew’s evident stalling.

“Well, see, it kinda… a little bit… exploded…” Matthew’s voice was barely above a whisper. He moved the phone further away to save his hearing from the inevitable loudness of his father’s reaction. He was surprised, however, when his father’s voice, although urgent, came across surprisingly soft.

“My god… Matthew,” Matthew gasped at the fact that his father called him the correct name, “my boy, are you alright? You didn’t get hurt did you? Damn it! I should’ve known better than to have you come out with all of this going on. Maybe it would be best if you left the lodge. I’ll have Berwald take you to the airport and-”

“Woah!” Matthew exclaimed. “Dad, slow down. I’m not going anywhere, eh. I’ve been wanting to come back to this place for so long, I’m not going to let all of this keep me from being here. I haven’t even gotten to see you yet! Not to mention all these weird things that have been going on… I don’t think I could leave if I didn’t know who’s responsible. So I’m staying!”

Mr. Jones chuckled lightly. “Oh, Mitchell,” _and were back to not remembering my name_ , “you really are so much like your mother. The both of you, so stubborn! Alright, I guess I can’t force you to leave, but if you insist on staying, I’m going to need your help.”

“Help?” Matthew asked. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’m going to need you to be my eyes and ears around there while I’m gone. Keep on the lookout for suspicious activity among any of the guests. You know, sort of like an undercover spy or something. Like in those Hardly Boys stories you and your brother used to read!”

“Hardy Boys, Dad,” Matthew corrected. “And how do you expect me to do that? ‘Hello, my name is Matthew, my dad owns this place. Have you, by any chance, taken part in any criminal activity recently?’ That wouldn’t be suspicious at all.”

Mr. Jones chuckled again. “You inherited your mother’s _sassiness_ as well, it would seem!” Matthew rolled his eyes. “No, my boy, we are going to much sneakier than that!” Matthew could practically hear his father’s smile. “You are going to become the new maid!”

_Eh?_

“You’re joking, right?”

“Of course not, Millard! I would never joke about something this important!”

“But why a…” Matthew’s mind flashed back to a few years ago when his cousin Francis had tricked him into a French maid costume. He shuddered at the thought. That skirt left little to the imagination. “Why a maid, Dad?”

“A maid has access to all the bedrooms in the lodge, and would have free reign to search said rooms! It’s a perfect cover! Don’t worry though, you wouldn’t have to wear any sort of uniform or anything.”

Matthew mentally face-palmed.

“B-but, Dad, wouldn’t that considered trespassing or something?”

“Nah!” Mr. Jones laughed. “It’ll be alright as long as you don’t get caught!”

“But why me, Dad? Alfred would be all over this ‘spy’ stuff like syrup on pancakes!”

“I will never fully understand your strange obsession with pancakes, my boy. Anyway, Alfred would be terrible for this job! That boy can’t keep a secret to save his life, you know that.” Matthew nodded to himself. His brother was a bit of a loudmouth. “Besides, you have this certain- how should I say it- knack for going undetected. You’re the obvious choice for this!”

Matthew sighed. He honestly couldn’t disagree with that. He’d spent the majority of his life being overlooked and overshadowed by his brother. A small part of him really wanted to do this just because he had been chosen over Alfred for something for the first time in… well, ever. Another part of him, slightly larger, doubted his ability to perform the task. He’d never really had much self-confidence. But if his dad was really counting on him that much…

“I’ll do it,” Matthew decided, releasing another sign.

“Great!” his father exclaimed. “I know you’ll a great job, Max! Now, Berwald has the master key, so be sure to get that from him, and the information about what you will be expected to do as a maid can be found on the computer there behind the desk. I really appreciate you doing this for me, son.”

“Of course, Dad.”

“Oh! One more thing! I’ve got someone coming up there to take care of the cooking, but they won’t be there until tomorrow afternoon, so if you or Berwald could pick up the slack until they arrive I’d really appreciate it. We can’t have hungry guests now can we!”

“Sure, Dad.”

“Great!” Mr. Jones said. “I think that about settles everything then! I’m sorry that this isn’t turning out to be the trip you hoped for, but I promise as soon as I get everything worked out here we will spend some quality time together. As a family.”

Matthew smiled softly. “Sounds great. I can’t wait.”

“I should get going now. My lawyer is getting impatient with me.”

“Alright, bye, Dad.” Matthew replied.

“Bye, Margaret!”

The line went dead.

Matthew’s father had called him many names during his 17 years of life, most of them incorrect, but now Matthew didn’t really mind those various other names he had been called in the past.

At least they had been the correct gender.

 

* * *

 

Matthew clicked on the folder titled “Maid Duties.”

“Maids are expected to make sure that each room is kept tidy,” Matthew read out loud. “Dirty towels should be placed in the provided laundry bag (which can be found in the cabinet behind the check in counter) and deposited in the chute located next to the bathroom on the second floor. Guests’ beds are also to be made daily. Both of these tasks should be completed before noon each day.”

Matthew sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day. This whole “maid” thing was sounding less and less appealing.

He continued to read. “The skating pond should be shoveled off after each snowfall.” _So just about every day then_ , he thought. “All avalanches should be immediately reported to the Avalanche Patrol.”

Since when were these maid duties?

Matthew shut down the computer and slumped back against the leather desk chair. This was not going to be fun. At _all_.

Matthew stood, stretching out his stiff back and letting out a long yawn. He was already tired, but just the thought of all the responsibilities he had around the lodge now had him even more worn out than before. He decided that he would get the master key from Berwald and then head upstairs to his room for a well-deserved rest.

On his way down into the basement, Matthew ran into someone. Literally. He would’ve tumbled backwards if a pair of strong arms hadn’t grabbed him and held him up.

“You should be more careful, _da_? You could hurt yourself.”

Matthew glanced up at the tower of a man that had caught him ( _He may even be bigger than Berwald!_ Matthew thought). The man had a smile on his slightly round face, one that didn’t quite reach his violet eyes, and his snowy hair fell gently against his forehead. And he was huge. Not in an overweight way, but more in a stature and muscle kind of way. He wasn’t unattractive by any means, and Matthew found his face heating up just slightly.

“M-maple!” he muttered. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention!”

The man chuckled darkly. “It is okay. Just be careful, _da_?” Matthew nodded, unable to look at the man out of embarrassment.

The man laughed again. “I am Ivan Braginski. I’m sure you’ve heard of me before.”

Matthew gasped. “Ivan Braginski? The famous Olympic skier? _That_ Ivan Braginski?”

Ivan smiled again. “ _Da_ , that is me. But you have not told me who you are yet.”

Matthew felt his face heat up again. “O-oh! I’m Matthew! Matthew Williams! I’m the… new maid I guess, eh.”

“Ah, Matvey,” Ivan chuckled again. “It is nice to meet you. New maid, hm? We will see how you do then.” Ivan made a move to push past the Canadian. “I must continue my training now. We shall talk later, _da_?”

“O-of course, sir!” Matthew replied, however Ivan had already gone.

_Wow, I can’t believe Ivan Braginski is staying here!_

Things just got a lot more interesting.

 

* * *

 

Matthew collapsed onto his bed.

“Uggg, I never want to move again,” he moaned.

After his encounter with Ivan on the stairs, Matthew had proceeded to the basement to ask Berwald for the master key. Matthew (after asking how Peter was feeling) explained how he had been pretty much forced into accepting the maid position and that a new cook would be arriving the following day.

Berwald hummed in response, not to Matthew’s surprise, and handed the key over to him. Matthew all but ran to his room. His rest was long overdue.

Having already changed into his maple leaf pajamas, Matthew grabbed his stuffed polar bear (named Mr. Kumacoffee or something. He could never remember) and was about to drift off into a nice, peaceful sleep when a noise from outside his window jolted him awake. Groaning, Matthew went to investigate.

His eyes scanned the edge of the forest for anything that could’ve caused the disturbance. Seeing nothing, Matthew was about to give up when a flash of white caught his attention. He only saw it for a brief moment, but its movements and body structure looked distinctly human to him. But it had moved so quickly he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps it was the white wolf his father had mentioned? Although he was sure the figure had been much taller than a wolf should have been…

No. It couldn’t possibly have been human. It was definitely some sort of animal. He merely saw it wrong. He was tired and his eyes were playing tricks on him.  
After all, there was no way a human could’ve moved that quickly.

…Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speedy updates because I have like 6 chapters already written and I'm bored so yeah.  
> Btdubs, italics used outside of quotations are Matthew's inner thoughts, and inside quotations they are usually foreign words cause they look fancier that way. Otherwise, they are just for emphasis on certain words. I'm sure you get it. Aaaaanyhoo, thanks for reading! More chapters are on their way soon!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: You know what I’m going to say. I own nothing. Nichts.

  
_Wayward winds, the voice that sings of a forgotten land_  
_See it fall, child of wolf_  
_Lend a mending hand_  
_When I run through the deep dark forest long after this begun_  
_Where the sun would set, trees were dead, and the rivers were none_  
_And I hope for a trace to lead me back home from this place_  
_But there was no sound_  
_There was only me and my disgrace_  
**_Wolf-First Aid Kit_**

* * *

Matthew awoke with a groan. It was about 7:15 (much too early, in his opinion), and he knew that along with his new _maid duties_ , he was responsible for making breakfast for the guests this morning. He groaned again and grudgingly rolled out of bed.

He slipped out of his pajamas and pulled on a loose pair of jeans and a red, long-sleeved thermal t-shirt. The Canadian yawned wildly as he pulled on his socks and dark brown boots. He picked up the master key from the bedside table where he had placed it the night before, and he turned to leave his room (not without first bidding farewell to Mr. Kumakaoru, of course.)

Matthew tried to rub the sleep from his stinging eyes as he walked downstairs. Not only was he trying to function after the worst night of sleep of his life, he was also nursing a pounding headache. He had tossed and turned for hours last night, and despite being so ridiculously exhausted, he just couldn’t get himself to fall asleep. The thought of the figure in the woods was haunting him.

Releasing another yawn, Matthew reached the kitchen and found Berwald already there beginning breakfast preparations.

“Mornin’,” the Swede greeted him. “C’ffee?”

“Yes please,” Matthew practically begged. “Do we have any pain reliever, eh?” He rubbed his temples harshly to try to get the aching of his head to go away.

Berwald grunted and poured Matthew a mug of steaming coffee before taking a bottle of Acetaminophen from the cabinet next to him.

“Thank you,” Matthew mumbled, fixing his coffee to his (ridiculously sweet) liking. He poured in a bit of cream, about 7 and a half spoonfuls of sugar, and a couple drops a maple syrup before taking a sip and deeming it acceptable. He popped off the (stupid hard to open) child-proof cap of the pain killer and dropped a few into his mouth, swallowing in them down with his coffee. He felt better already.

“So, what are we making for breakfast?” Matthew asked.

“P’ncakes,” Berwald replied.

Matthew almost did a happy dance.

“Alright!” he said, suddenly feeling more energized. “Let’s get started then, eh?”

Berwald nodded and the two began gathering the necessary ingredients. They worked in a comfortable silence. Matthew had started feeling a lot less on edge around the Swede, and honestly enjoyed the time he spent cooking with him. He smiled a bit as he poured a small amount of batter onto the hot griddle.

There were currently six people staying at the lodge, including himself, Berwald, and Peter.

Matthew had made enough pancakes to feed the combined numbers of all the Military forces in the North American continent.

Twice.

Even Berwald couldn’t keep the look of surprise from his face.

Matthew was a pancake making machine.

And Matthew’s pancake making ability was rivaled only by his pancake _eating_ ability.

 

* * *

 

Having successfully devouring well over half of the pancakes he had made for breakfast, Matthew sighed contentedly and patted his stomach. Berwald offered to take care of the clean-up, so Matthew went off to take care of his other responsibilities.

His _maid duties_.

Matthew clearly was not excited about this.

He slowly sulked over to the large cabinet that was located behind the check-in desk. He located the large, white canvas laundry bag quickly and slung it half-heartedly across his arm. He then pulled out a slip of paper (Berwald had given it to him with the master key) that told his which guests were in which rooms.

_Pish Pish- Arthur Kirkland_

_Ollalie- Elizabeta Héderváry_

_Eena- Vacant_

_Kalakala- Ivan Braginski_

_Chinook- Vacant_

_Kwel Kwel- Matthew Williams_

Matthew scanned the paper quickly before shoving it back into his pocket and leaving the check in area. He climbed the stairs and noticed for the first time (he had been in a hurry to get to bed the night before and hadn’t really studied the hallway’s furnishings) the giant pig head hung on the way at the end of the hall.

It was just… staring at him.

Matthew involuntarily shivered. _I didn’t sign up for “Lord of the Flies,” eh._ He shot the pig one more wary glance before ducking into the first occupied guest room that wasn’t his. Since the room across from Matthew’s (Chinook, he recalled) was vacant, the room he ended up in was Kalakala, where Ivan was staying.

Matthew was a bit thankful that the skier wasn’t currently in the room to witness his somewhat childish hiding from an inanimate pig head.

That would’ve been horribly embarrassing.

Matthew shook the pig from his thoughts and began his maid duties in Ivan’s room. The Russian’s room was surprisingly tidy. His bed didn’t even look it had been slept in. Interesting, Matthew thought. The Canadian turned to collect the used towels from the rack he knew would be against the wall just inside the door and suddenly came face-to-face with a huge stuffed moose head. He squealed.

_The taxidermy game is strong here._

Forcing his eyes away from the moose, he noticed a small desk just below the (admittedly freaky) head, upon which rested a sporting magazine of some sort. Curious, Matthew picked it up and flipped through it. One specific article caught his attention. Apparently a winter sport championship of some sort was rumored to be taking place in the area sometime soon. Perhaps that’s why Ivan picked this place to train, Matthew wondered. He placed the magazine back down on the desk.

Matthew picked up the bright orange towels and shoved them into the laundry bag before leaving Ivan’s room.

The room across from Ivan (Eena) was also currently vacant, so Matthew traveled a bit further down the long hallway (keeping a close eye on that pig the whole time) and ended up in at the Ollalie room, which was on the right side of the hall next to Ivan’s room.

According to his note, the room belonged to a woman named Elizabeta, whom Matthew didn’t recall meeting yet. He knocked on the door, and hearing no response, entered.

He went through the motions: made the bed, picked up the towels (red in this room), and snooped through strangers’ belongings. He noticed Elizabeta had quite a few articles about Ivan in her possession. He assumed she was probably some huge fangirl or something. After one final check, he left the room.

There was only one room left to clean ( _Thank god_ ), the Pish Pish room, which belonged to a man named Arthur. Matthew remembered he was the bushy-browed Brit who had called the police after the bunkhouse bombing. Arthur’s room didn’t really contain anything Matthew found particularly suspicious, just a couple of books on engineering and one on precious gems. To each his own, I guess. Matthew stuffed Arthur’s green towels into the laundry bag and silently thanked the lord that he was done.

Matthew walked back to the other end of the hallway and easily located the laundry chute that was next to the bathroom. He felt a sense of accomplishment as he released the now full bag and heard it tumble down into the wherever that chute went. Matthew sighed (something he had been doing a lot of since arriving at the lodge) and was looking forward to getting to relax by the fire for the rest of the afternoon.

Of course, since the universe clearly had it out for him, those plans came tumbling down at the (extremely) loud calling of something in his direction.

“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaattieeeeeee!”

He had never hated the sound of his own name so much in his whole life.

“Hello, Alfred,” he mumbled, feeling his headache from that morning slowly making a return.

His brother, taking the steps two at a time, arrived at Matthew’s side in mere moments, full on tackling him in a hug that almost sent the brothers to the floor.

“I missed you so much, Little Bro!” Alfred exclaimed, rubbing his cheek against Matthew’s fluffy head. Matthew found the whole thing to be quite disturbing and obnoxious, but with Alfred that was usually the norm. “I bet you missed me too, huh? Of course you did! How could you not miss me? No need to worry now, though! The Hero has arrived! Hahaha!”

Matthew patted his brother’s back awkwardly. “Good to see you too, Al. B-but I kinda can’t breathe, so could you let me go now, eh?”

Alfred released his brother, still laughing. “Sorry, bro. I guess I can get a little too excited sometimes!”

…That was the understatement of the year.

“Just a bit, Al,” Matthew replied, smiling a bit. His brother really was something else.

Alfred F. Jones (“The ‘F’ stands for freedom!” Alfred would tell everyone. Which was a lie. It stood for Franklin, but Alfred insisted that wasn’t heroic enough) was an 18-year-old freshman in college and had the biggest hero complex of anyone Matthew had ever met. It was a bit ridiculous, actually. Despite being older, he acted quite childishly the majority of the time, leaving Matthew the job of being the “responsible child.” Not that it mattered though. He had been living in Alfred’s shadow his whole life.

Now, Matthew loved his brother, he really did, but he couldn’t help but resent him a bit for constantly stealing the spotlight. Matthew knew it wasn’t really Alfred’s fault; he was tall, athletic, had nice, wheat-colored blond hair (with that little flyaway piece he had dubbed “Nantucket” for reasons unknown), and a pair of sky blue eyes that shone even from behind his thin rimmed glasses. He really stood out, especially with that personality of his.

Then there was Matthew. Mousy, quiet, awkward Matthew. It was easy to be overlooked when you had a brother like Alfred.

“Oh!” Alfred’s loud voice brought Matthew out of his inner pity-party. “I almost forgot! You’re never going to guess who I ran into at the airport! It was the craziest thing, bro! I was just walking along, y’know? And then he was just right there in front of me and I was like ‘woah!’ Isn’t that crazy?”

Matthew was about to bring up the fact that Alfred didn’t actually mention who it was that he ran into when another voice joined in the conversation.

“Are you talking about me, _mon cher_?”

No. Freaking. Way.

“F-Francis?” Matthew stood dumbfounded as his cousin came into view at the bottom on the stairs.

Francis Bonnefoy, 22 years of age, stood smirking up at his little cousins. His shoulder length blond hair was pulled back messily, but stylishly, and his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. He had this air of seduction that surrounded him constantly (one which Matthew found slightly disturbing) and would try to hit on just about anything that moved.

Francis had yet to remove his long purple-blue trench coat thing (“It’s a cloak, non?”) and the ends of his burgundy pants were stuffed into a pair of black boots. He honestly didn’t look very warm, but for Francis, looking good was always priority one.

“ _Bonjour_ , Mathieu,” Francis replied, his smirk widening into a full grin.

“I thought you were studying at some culinary school in France!” Matthew exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Francis chuckled. “I was actually visiting _ma mère_ in New York City when I received the strangest call from _Oncle_. He said that his cook and maid had just quit and practically begged me to come up here to fill in until he could find someone to stay permanently.” Francis’s eyes twinkled with something Matthew had long grown to be terrified of. “He also mentioned you were playing maid, _mon cher_. Too bad I did not have that cute little maid outfit with me for you to wear, _oui?”_

Matthew shuddered. “Yeah. T-too bad, eh.”

Alfred, being the completely oblivious man he was, totally could not read the atmosphere. “Mattie’s the maid? Hahaha! Dude, that sounds so girly.”

Matthew’s face heated up in embarrassment. “Sh-shut up, Al.”

Alfred’s laugh (somehow) increased in volume. “I’m just messing with you, bro! Hahaha!” He glanced at his phone to check the time. “Dude! It’s totally lunch time already! The Hero must eat to keep up his heroic strength!” And with that Alfred took off down the stairs and ran to the kitchen.

Matthew face-palmed.

“He has not changed a bit, has he?” Francis asked.

“No,” Matthew replied. “Not at all.”

 

* * *

 

Since they did not know exactly what time the new cook would be arriving, Berwald had already begun to prepare lunch (which turned out to be hamburgers much to “The Hero’s” immense joy), so Matthew and Francis decided to take a seat on one of the couches located in the main lobby area of the lodge. Alfred, since he had run ahead, was not seated with them, but had instead plopped down at an odd-looking game table with the Brit with the large eyebrows and had begun to annoy him about something-or-another.

Matthew rather enjoyed this room; it was relatively large with a sizable stone fireplace and various seating options. In the center of the room was a rather wide pillar. On one side was the game table where Alfred and Arthur sat ( _Is Arthur blushing?_ ), and on the other were a bunch of framed pictures and random item’s that had belonged to the lodge’s original owner, some guy named Trapper Dan. Matthew had found the display rather interesting when he was younger, but his brother thought it to be boring and would drag Matthew away from it to go play outside before really had a chance to read anything.

And of course the most prominent pieces in the room were the stuffed animals.

Not the cute, fluffy kind that you slept with as a kid. No.

The taxidermy kind.

There was a rather large (as in full-sized) bear in the corner by the window, and two stuffed heads on the pillar in the center of the room, one on either side.  
Matthew liked to pretend they didn’t exist. It was much less freaky that way.

Berwald emerged from the kitchen to announce that lunch was ready, and Alfred (no surprise, really) was the first to leap from his seat and run in the general direction of food.

Matthew just shook his head.

 

* * *

 

Lunch was very pleasant. Berwald had done an amazing job on the burgers. Such a good job, in fact, that the food had nearly brought Alfred to tears as he ran around exclaiming that it was “even better than McDonald’s, dude!” Matthew, never being a big fan of the franchise, did not see this a much of a compliment, but considering that it was coming from Alfred, it was definitely a big deal.

After everything had been cleaned up, Matthew had decided that he was going to return to his room to try and catch up on his lost sleep when his brother called him over to the game table.

“Mattie, dude! Have you ever played this Fox and Geese game? It’s awesome! I’ve been kicking Artie’s butt at it for a while now.”

Arthur blushed. “You have not!” he insisted. “And it’s Arthur, not Artie!”

Alfred laughed. “Whatever you say, Art.” He sent a wink at the red-faced Brit, whose blush darkened even more.

“That’s great, Al, but why exactly did you call me over here, eh?” Matthew asked, just a bit irritated.

“Oh yeah! I almost forgot!” Alfred laughed. Matthew rolled his eyes. “Do you think you could go clean off the skating pond? I wanna show Artie my heroic moves on the ice.”

“…Alfred,” Matthew said, “you’re a terrible skater.”

“Not true, Mattie!” Alfred replied defensively. “There is nothing the Hero cannot do! So could you pretty, pretty pleeeease go clear off the skating pond for me?” Alfred flashed Matthew the puppy eyes that he knew the Canadian was weak against.

Matthew groaned. _Damn you, Alfred_. “Whatever, eh. I’m supposed to clean it off after every snowfall as part of my _maid duties_ anyway,” He cringed at those words while Alfred let loose another loud laugh.

“Thanks, bro!” Alfred sent him a smile and a thumbs up. “Isn’t that great, Artie?”

The Brit simply nodded in response, still flustered over the whole “winking” incident.

Matthew rolled his eyes, deciding that his brother was a huge idiot.

 

* * *

 

Matthew scraped the metallic shovel over the top of the skating pond over and over, cursing his brother with every movement.

He’d been out there for over an hour, shoveling away at what seemed to be endless amounts of snow. He’d nearly fallen over 6 times, couldn’t feel any of his extremities, and was pretty sure that he was developing a cold. Even through all this, there was one thing his mind kept focusing on.

_Alfred._

Matthew decided that this was definitely the last time he ever gave into one of his brother’s stupid whims (of course that’s what he’d said after the incident with the shaving cream and the pony in the strawberry patch), and he was going to give that _hoser_ a what for when he got back to lodge.

That was of course, if he ever finished cleaning off this damn skating pond.

The next half-hour passed extremely slowly for Matthew, but when he had finally managed to scrape off the last bit of snow, he had to force himself from screaming and throwing the stupid shovel across the ice.

With the fire of Alfred resentment burning in him, Matthew began his long trek back to the lodge. He had only made it a few feet from the pond when he noticed a set of tracks that he hadn’t seen earlier. They definitely weren’t human, though they were relatively large. Could they be…wolf tracks? Matthew, try as he might to contain it, had a curiosity that was hard to tame, so, against his better judgment, he began to follow the tracks to wherever they went.

Because it’s always a good idea to go in the same direction as the potentially deadly wild animal.

Matthew could see the faint outline of mountains appearing on the horizon, and soon came across a sign which read “Chicken Ridge.” Matthew found the name to be humorous.

After a few more feet, the wolf tracks began to disappear. It seemed to Matthew that they were beginning to change in shape as well. Almost becoming more… human. But that was impossible, right?

Before Matthew had a chance to really investigate, a chilling sound pierced through the air.

A howl.

Matthew felt his heart start to race.

Last time he heard that howl, the bunkhouse had exploded. Did that mean that-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a powerful explosion, one that shook the very ground he stood upon. The next sound he heard, however, was a new one, one he wasn’t familiar with.

Understandable, really. It’s not every day you hear the sound of an avalanche heading towards you at frightening speeds.

Matthew Williams, age 17, did the only thing he could think to do.

He ran like hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting another chapter today because I have it and I can.  
> Also, I love cliffhangers ‘cause I’m evil. XD  
> And I don’t speak French. At all. So I’m depending on internet translators for that.  
> The Fox and Geese game that Alfie mentions is from the Nancy Drew game (as are the weird room names) and it is the bane of my existence. It’s stupid hard and you have to play it like 3 times and I just… ugggg. No me gusta.  
> I couldn’t manage to fit Gil into this chapter (*sad face*), but he is definitely making an appearance next time. Like, first thing.  
> And USUK is going to a thing here too, if you couldn’t tell already. ‘Cause Alfie and Artie are my baes.  
> Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying this so far. That’s it from me for now!  
> Tschüss!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

  
_The sunken-in eyes_  
_And the pain in his cries_  
_A shape in the dark_  
_Cry wolf_  
_Time to worry_  
_Cry wolf_  
_Time worry now_  
**_Cry Wolf-A ha_ **

* * *

Matthew wasn’t completely sure why he thought himself capable of outrunning an _avalanche_ , but he sure as hell tried. He had decided that at least attempting to escape his impending doom was better than just standing there and taking it full force. For the first few seconds, he actually thought that he could make it.

The fact that he was now buried under who-knows-how-many feet of snow brought that hope down very quickly.

Matthew was alive, somehow, but he honestly didn’t know how long that would be the case. He could barely move any of this limbs (he couldn’t tell if they were broken or if it was because of the weight on the snow), and his already small air supply was decreasing with each rapid breath he took. He was going to die here, and they were never going to find his body.

That realization struck Matthew hard. He didn’t want to die here. No. He _refused_ to die here. He was going to get out of this, and he was going to give his brother a piece of his mind. It was as if the thought of chewing out Alfred fueled him on, and Matthew began to scream and violently thrash his body around. His range of motion was extremely limited, but he tried his hardest to try to claw his way to the surface.

The air was becoming very thin, and the more Matthew yelled, the less there was. Matthew felt the sting of icy tears on his face. He was feeling very light headed, and his strength was leaving him.

Maybe this really was the end after all.

He didn’t think he could stay conscious for much longer.

This was it.

He’d never see Alfred again. He wondered if his stupidly annoying (but amazing and wonderful) big brother would miss him. What about his dad? Would his dad even notice he was gone? _Of course he would_ , Matthew tried to reassure himself. _Mom wouldn’t though_ , he thought. _She was the one who never saw me_. Matthew felt the tears continue to fall down his cheeks.

He thought of everyone at the lodge. Francis, Berwald, Peter, even Mr. Kumajojo; would they miss him?

Matthew hoped they would, because he didn’t have the strength to go on anymore.

He was about to give up hope completely, but he heard a noise coming from above him. It sounded a bit like… digging? _No, it couldn’t be… but I suppose I’m dead anyway, eh._

There’s nothing to lose. Matthew thrashed around a bit more and filled his lungs with the last bit of oxygen he could take from the air.

“Here! Down here!” he yelled, his head spinning. “P-please! Help! Can’t… breathe…” His lungs were screaming at him, begging for air. The pain was unimaginable.

The snow above him crunched as it was (he assumed) being torn away.

The last thing Matthew saw before he blacked out was a painfully bright white.

And a deep blood red.

 

* * *

 

Matthew was dead.

Or, at least he was pretty sure that he was.

There’s no way he survived, so he must be dead.

He didn’t expect Heaven to so cold though. Was this Hell? No, Hell wouldn’t be cold either. Then this was probably Limbo or something. Limbo could feasibly be cold. Maybe? Matthew didn’t particularly believe in Limbo though…

Well, he was somewhere. He knew that much for sure.

And he was most definitely dead.

…  
Right?

Matthew groaned as his eyes fluttered open. His whole body ached, and he was still feeling very light headed. Could you feel pain like this when you were dead? He slowly started to sit up, every one of his muscles screaming at him, and he noticed a bandage wrapped tightly around his left arm, which was resting gently in a cloth sling.

“I patched you up pretty awesomely, _ja_?” an unfamiliar voice suddenly spoke up from behind him.

Matthew squealed, flailing a bit, and quickly spun around (which hurt) on the bed he had just realized he was laying on.

He saw someone (a man, he concluded from the voice) standing off in the corner, partially hidden in the shadows.

The man laughed; it was a strange laugh unlike any Matthew had heard before, but it wasn’t unpleasant. “You sounded just like a little bird just now! And how you flapped your arms around! That was pretty awesome to watch.” The man laughed for a moment longer before taking a step out from the shadows. “So tell me, _Vögelchen_ , what were you doing under a pile of snow?”

Matthew’s eyed widened and he couldn’t stop himself from gasping.

_Beautiful._

Matthew could think of no other way to describe the man before him.

Maybe this was Heaven after all.

His skin was so incredibly pale it was almost translucent. He had on a loose pair of light-wash jeans, a black short sleeve t-shirt (which really stood out against his skin), and no shoes. Matthew wondered how the man wasn’t freezing to death. On the man’s head was a bright yellow beanie, from under which Matthew could see some startlingly white hair sticking out. But what had Matthew so helplessly captivated was the man’s eyes.

They were color of blood.

And they were the most beautiful eyes Matthew had ever seen.

Not that he’d say that out loud.

The man smirked and took another step forward (Matthew thought he saw a flash of something white behind the man for a moment, but it was gone so quickly he assumed he had imagined.)

“I know I’m awesome to look at, _Vögelchen_ , but it’s rude to stare.”

Matthew blushed furiously and looked away. “S-sorry…” he whispered.

“If you don’t speak up, people can’t hear you, _Vögelchen_.” The man took a few more steps towards Matthew.

“S-sorry!” Matthew said a bit louder.

The man laughed again. “ _Gut_ , that’s much better!” He was right in front of Matthew now, and he squatted down, his face inches from the Canadian’s. “But you still haven’t answered my question. What were you doing under the snow, hm?” His breath tickled Matthew’s face, and the Canadian felt a bit uncomfortable, so he scooted back a bit on the bed. The man chuckled. “Well?”

“It’s kind of a long story, eh,” he finally replied.

He felt the bed dip down a bit as the man sat down beside him (Matthew noticed he shifted his weight around a little awkwardly for a moment, but thought nothing of it). “Well you’re in luck, _Vögelchen_ , because I am an awesome listener! So get on with it already!”

Matthew frowned. “Why should I tell you anything?” he asked, feeling a bit brave. “I don’t even know you!”

The man smirked. “I am the awesome Gilbert! And you are _mein Vögelchen_. There, now we know each other so you can talk. Go on!”

Man, this guy is pushy, Matthew thought. “I don’t know what the heck a ‘Vogel-whatever’ is, my name is Matthew, and I still don’t know why I should have to tell you anything!”

“Matthew, huh?” Gilbert said. “Alright then _Matthew_ , considering I saved your life out there, I think the Awesome Me deserves an explanation, _ja_?”

“Y-you’re the one who saved me?” Matthew asked.

Gilbert let loose another round of laughs. “Well duh, _Vögelchen_ , who else could’ve done something so awesome? You should really be thanking me.”

“But why?” Matthew asked.

“It would be pretty unawesome not to thank someone who went out of their way to save your life.”

“No,” Matthew corrected, “why did you save me? What was your reasoning? You could’ve just let me die out there, so why didn’t you?”

Gilbert suddenly became stiff. “It’s not awesome to let someone die when it’s in your ability to protect them, _Vögelchen_.” His tone was so serious, it honestly surprised Matthew a bit. After a moment Gilbert relaxed. “So! Now that we have that cleared up, how about you tell me your story now?”

Matthew was a bit concerned about Gilbert’s sudden personality 180, but he decided to let it go. With a long sigh, he grudgingly began to tell the red-eyed man everything that had happened.

 

* * *

 

“So let me see if I’ve got this right,” Gilbert said after Matthew had finished. “Your brother asked you to hike out to some frozen puddle in the middle of nowhere and clean it off so he and his boyfriend-”

“Arthur’s not his boyfriend,” Matthew cut it.

“It’s unawesome to interrupt, _Vögelchen_. Now, where was I? Oh yes. He asked you to go all the way out there to clean off the ice so he and his boyfriend could goof off like a couple of idiots, and you did since you’re a huge pushover.” Matthew looked like he wanted to interject, but Gilbert shot him a look that made him hold his tongue. “Anyway, you spent a couple of hours out there cleaning the thing off, getting more and more pissed off at your brother, and you decided to go kick his ass when you finished. Then you started following some random tracks through the woods for no real reason and got caught up in an avalanche, from which the Awesome Me awesomely rescued you. Is that about it?”

Matthew nodded, not sure if he was allowed to talk again yet.

“Well you are damn lucky I happened to be out there, _Vögelchen_ ,” Gilbert said, his tone turning a bit serious again.

“I was wondering about that,” Matthew said.

“About what?” Gilbert asked.

“How did you know where I was, eh?”

“I was out walking nearby and I heard you screaming,” Gilbert replied immediately.

“I know I was yelling pretty loudly,” Matthew continued, “but it must have been hard to hear from above unless you were standing really close by and I don’t-”

“I have really awesome ears, _ja_?” Gilbert interrupted.

Matthew frowned. “But, as I was saying, I don’t remember seeing anybody anywhere close to where I was. There was only the wolf tracks.” That struck a chord in Matthew’s memory. “There was something weird about those tracks,” he said, trying to get his mind to work.

He didn’t notice how Gilbert paled (well, paled more than normal).

“Oh!” Matthew exclaimed. “I think I remember now! The tracks were weird because they started changing to-”

Gilbert all but jumped from his seat (there was that flash of white again too!). “You want a drink or something?” he asked, sounding a bit urgent.

“Y-yes please,” Matthew replied, feeling a bit confused by the man’s reaction. He shivered. “Something warm if you have it?”

Gilbert nodded and made his way over to the other side of the room and started rummaging through some cabinets that were there.  
Matthew found that entire thing incredibly strange, but chose not to think too much into it.

He decided that Gilbert was just incredibly eccentric.

Matthew took the opportunity to take a look around, something he hadn’t really had a chance to do because of Gilbert’s continuous badgering from the moment he woke up.

The place was very small and rundown, and the bed took up the majority of the space. Honestly, it was more like a shack than anything. The walls were all a faded gray color, and there was a horrible draft. There we no appliances of any kind, only a small stone fireplace with a small blaze going inside it (over which Gilbert appeared to be heating some water). Matthew thought that the place felt horribly lonely. Did Gilbert live out here all by himself? The thought made Matthew feel strangely sad.

“Here,” Gilbert said suddenly, surprising Matthew a bit. The Canadian took the worn-looking mug that the pale man was trying to give him. There appeared to be some sort of tea inside.

“Thank you,” Matthew said, taking a small sip. It was delicious and really helped to warm him.

“ _Ja_ ,” Gilbert mumbled, taking a sip of his own beverage before joining Matthew on the bed again.

They sat there drinking in an awkward silence until Matthew spoke up.

“So why do you live out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Gilbert smirked a bit. “What makes you think we’re out in the middle of nowhere, _Vögelchen_?”

“It’s incredibly quiet, first of all,” Matthew explained, “and you said that you were out walking near the ridge, which is far away from just about everything. It would only make sense that you lived far away from everything too.”

“You’re pretty observant, _Vögelche_ n.” Gilbert chuckled. “I don’t really… fit in with other people. They can’t handle my awesomeness. So I decided to be awesome out here on my own instead!”

Matthew frowned. “But doesn’t it… get lonely? Being all alone all the time?”

“I wasn’t always alone, _Vögelchen_ ,” Gilbert replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Matthew was just about to ask him what he meant by that when he happened to glance down at his watch.

“Maple!” he exclaimed. “Is it really after 5 already?! I need to get back!” Matthew hopped up, cringing at the pain that ran through his body.

“Wait!” Gilbert cried, grabbing onto the Canadian’s arm. His mug of tea sat abandoned on the floor.

Matthew stared at him. Gilbert was acting strange, well, stranger than he normally acted. Matthew frowned again.

“I’ve really got to get back, Gilbert,” Matthew insisted.

“But you might get lost out there or something! That would be so unawesome! Maybe it would better if you just stayed here for a while…”

Oh.

_Oh._

Gilbert didn’t want Matthew you leave. Was he honestly that lonely? Is that why he was acting so strangely? He really wanted Matthew to hang around? Matthew’s heart fluttered a little at that thought. Someone actually wanted to spend time with him. With Matthew (he chose to ignore the fact that Gilbert lived in the middle of nowhere and probably had about 0 interaction with any humans other than Matthew). He found himself smiling just a bit. He honestly enjoyed spending time with Gilbert, despite his pushy, egotistic nature (but then again Alfred was Matthew’s brother so he was already used to dealing with that).

“I really can’t stay now, Gilbert,” Matthew began.

“But-”

“It’s unawesome to interrupt, Gilbert.”

Matthew could’ve sworn those pale cheeks gained a bit of color just then.

“But,” Matthew continued, “maybe I can come back sometime, eh?” Gilbert perked up a bit at that. “Don’t worry about me getting lost either,” Matthew assured him, “I practically grew up out there, so I’ll be fine.”

Gilbert’s signature smirk returned. “Well, well, well! It seems like _mein Vögelchen_ can take care of himself after all!” Gilbert laughed and released his hold on Matthew’s arm. It seemed as if he was back to his old self, but Matthew noticed a hint of uncertainty in those red eyes.

“Of course I can!” Matthew insisted. He began to walk towards the door. He felt Gilbert’s eyes on him as he reached for the door handle with his good arm. He turned to face the man behind him. “I’ll be back soon, Gil.” The nickname just slipped out. Gilbert noticed it and grinned.

“Of course you will! Why would anyone want to stay away from the Awesome Me?” He was definitely back to normal.

Matthew rolled his eyes. “Goodbye, Gilbert. And thank you.” Matthew opened the door and stepped out into the snow, pulling the door closed behind him.

“ _Auf wiedersehen, mein Vögelchen_.”

 

* * *

 

Matthew had grossly overestimated his own sense of direction.

When he had left Gilbert’s little shack (upon seeing from the outside, he decided that it really was a shack after all), Matthew felt pretty confident in the way he had chosen to go.

Now he had no idea where we was.

Matthew groaned and kept walking, shivering violently from the cold.

The Canadian couldn’t keep Gilbert out of his head. He found the man completely fascinating. He could go from being loud, demanding, and full of himself one moment to quiet, vulnerable, and almost childlike the next. Gilbert was an enigma. A loud, kind, annoying, caring, beautiful enigma. Matthew felt warmer just thinking about him.

Now if only he could find the way back to the lodge.

Matthew wasn’t sure exactly how long he wandered around before he came across an interesting set of tracks in the snow. They weren’t wolf prints this time, or any other animal for that matter. They were a set of continuous parallel lines. If these are what I think they are I will drink a bottle of maple syrup.

Matthew ran alongside the tracks for a few more minutes before the (beautiful and inviting) roof of the lodge came into view.

_God bless you, Ivan. God bless you and your skis._

There were two things Matthew needed to do now.

Drink some syrup (he had promised himself that he would after all) and try not to murder his brother.

 

* * *

 

That evening at the lodge was eventful to say the least.

Matthew, on an intense sugar-high, ran up to Alfred (who was sitting at the game table with Arthur again) in order to give him a piece of his mind. As Matthew approached, Alfred noticed the sling and bandages and started freaking out. He was screaming something about being the hero and destroying whatever villain had dared to injure his precious little brother. Arthur started yelling at him to be quiet and sit down and stop “acting like a bloody idiot.” Matthew decided he really didn’t want to deal with that right now.

Francis had prepared some sort of salmon dish for dinner, but Matthew was feeling a bit ill from the amount of maple syrup he had ingested, so he decided to go lay down in his bed.

Which is where he was currently, holding Mr. Kumajingles snuggly against him and wanting nothing more than to just get some sleep.

Which he couldn’t, not only because he was so hopped up on sugar that he was about to jump out of his bed and run around the room, but because of something else that he could seem to shake from him mind.

Those haunting blood-red eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never tried to write Gil before, so if he seems weird or whatever I’m really sorry. *^*  
> And I know Mattie’s personality seems kind of all over the place, but that is on purpose. I felt that when he’s around people he’s really familiar and comfortable with (like Alfie), he’s a lot more outgoing and outspoken then if he’s with people that he doesn’t know very well (like when he meets Berwald). And he warms up to Gil so fast because, you know, he’s awesome. Does that make sense? I’m sorry if that’s weird or anything. My personality is a bit like that, and they say to write what you know, right?  
> I feel a lot more confident in my knowledge of German than I do with French, since I’ve actually studied German, but I’m not claiming to be perfect so corrections on anything are always welcome!  
> I think that’s about all I wanted to say, so thanks for reading!  
> Adios!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just a quick little note before I start, I mention a bit of Fox and Geese gameplay in this chapter, and since I guarantee almost none of you know what that is, I’ll just give you a quick summary of it. It’s a bit like checkers. Basically, it’s for two players, one plays as the geese (there are multiple geese tokens) and one as the fox (which there is one of). The “geese player” moves their pieces to try to trap the fox in one of the four corners of the game board, while the “fox player” tries to jump as many geese as possible and take them off the board. The game ends when either the geese trap the fox or the fox “eats” enough geese to make trapping him impossible. And it’s friggin hard. Anyway, I hope that makes sense. Now, to the story!

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is this cookie I’m eating. But it’s gone now. So I own nothing.

 _It’s another bad dream_  
_Poison in my blood stream_  
_I’m dying but I can’t scream_  
_Will you show me the way?_  
_It’s another wolf bite_  
_Howlin’ in the moonlight_  
_I wanna get my life right_  
_Will you show me the way?_  
_Tonight_  
**_Wolf Bite-Owl City_ **

* * *

“G-Gil, wait,” Matthew breathed.

The man before him chuckled, tightening his grip on the Canadian’s hips. “Are you embarrassed, _Vögelchen_?”

Matthew nodded, feeling his cheeks grow warm. He shut his eyes.

“Look at me.” Gilbert’s breath tickled his ears (which were now also bright red).

“N-no,” Matthew replied.

“ _Vögelchen_ ,” Gilbert demanded. “ _Sieh mich an_.” Matthew shivered as he felt the strong hands move from his hips and press gently against his waist. A pair of chapped lips brushed against his earlobe.

Matthew hesitantly opened his eyes. His breath hitched.

Gilbert’s eyes were practically glowing. They were like pools of hot, steaming blood, filled with desire and passion. So captivating and terrifying and beautiful. They were burning into him like red-hot coals. Matthew couldn’t look away.

Gilbert’s signature smirk was placed on his lips, but this one was different. It wasn’t the usual teasing playful smirk. No. This one portrayed something else. It was possessive and seductive. It was stunning. Everything about this man had Matthew completely immobilized.

A pale hand removed itself from Matthew’s waist and came up to caress his blushing face.

“There we go _mein Vögelchen_ ,” Gilbert whispered, his face moving to closer towards the blushing Canadian. “Only look at me.”

Matthew gasped as a pair of lips softly brushed against his and-

_**BEEP BEEP BEEP** _

Matthew flailed wildly, knocking his alarm off the bedside table, and then joined it face down on the floor, Mr. Kumagoro landing next to him.

_What in the name of maple was that?_

His mind did not just come up with all of that. That dream was just… it was…

It wasn’t all that bad actually.

 _…_  
_What?!_

Matthew unwound himself from the tangle of sheets he was caught in and stood. He needed to find something else to occupy his mind. Now.

He decided to skip breakfast (his stomach was still a bit upset from all the syrup) and instead take a nice, long, potentially cold shower because he just felt downright weird.

Matthew grabbed one of the fluffy, white towels from the large wardrobe in his room and a change of clothes before making his way to the bathroom at the end of the hall. The bathroom situation at the lodge had always been a bit of a problem considering there was only one available for use, which is why Matthew was taking advantage of the opportunity while everyone else was eating.

He entered the small room and, after locking the door, proceeded to turn on the water and remove his clothes and bandages. After hanging his towel over the shower rod and deeming the water an acceptable temperature (he had decided that a cold one was not needed), he pulled back the moose-print curtain and stepped under the spray. He sighed as the warm water cascaded down his back and shoulders.

Now (not that Matthew would ever admit it), the Canadian boy was a bit of a shower singer.

Although, in all honesty, he was more of a shower _performer_.

Matthew had a rather large repertoire of “shower songs” which he would pick from, the majority of them being Disney.

 _“Look at this stuff, isn’t it neat?_  
_Wouldn’t you think my collection’s complete?_  
_Wouldn’t you think I’m the girl_  
_The girl who has everything?”_

Matthew’s tune of choice for today was from “The Little Mermaid,” one of his personal favorites.

 _“Look at this trove_  
_Treasures untold_  
_How many wonders can one cavern hold?_  
_Lookin’ around here you’d think, sure, she’s got everything”_

Matthew squeezed a bit of shampoo into his hand and began to massage it into his scalp. It was one of those “manly smelling” shampoos. Alfred had bought it for him in the hopes that would help boost Matthew’s “manly image” (“Just like in the commercials!” Alfred had said), but that had yet to happen.

And considering Matthew was currently in the shower singing songs from “The Little Mermaid,” he doubted it ever would.

After Matthew had lightly scrubbed his body with a soapy washcloth, he deemed himself clean (and his mind “Gilbert free”) and shut off the water. He was still humming a bit as he dried off and started to pull on his clothes. He wrapped his arm back up in a white bandage, but I didn’t really bother him that much anymore.

The bathroom mirror was fogged up, so Matthew, towel in hand went over to it and sang, “Call 1-555-Mystico and prepare to be amazed!” as he swiped the towel across the surface of the glass. He chuckled at himself.

Matthew Williams was, admittedly, a bit of a dork.

The pile of wet towels discarded on the floor of the bathroom reminded him of something he had really tried to forget.

Those dang _maid duties_.

With a groan Matthew dragged himself down the stairs to pick up the laundry bag. He noticed it was surprisingly empty on the main floor. They all must still be at breakfast, he decided. He opened the cabinet, grabbed the bag, and returned upstairs to begin.

 

* * *

 

Matthew dropped the stuffed laundry bag down the chute.

The stupid cleaning had taken even longer today because of the arrival of Francis and Alfred. Alfred had insisted on taking the Eena room (Matthew had suggested that it was because it was the closest available room to Arthur, but Alfred had denied that fact), so Francis was left with no choice but to take the Chinook room across from Matthew. The Canadian stretched, feeling his back and shoulders pop with the movement and returned downstairs.

Matthew had snooped through just about everything in the lodge (much to his displeasure), but he hadn’t really found anything he considered to be highly suspicious (he chose to ignore some of the… _interesting_ things he had accidentally stumbled upon in Francis’s room). So, since he had not really had a chance to get to know many of the guests (it had been a crazy couple of days after all), he decided that he would go and talk to them in person. He wasn’t particularly excited about doing that either.

Upon entering the den area, Matthew noticed that there was a woman standing by one of the frosted windows. Her long, wavy, light brown hair fell down her back, stopping just above her waist. She was wearing a green dark green wool sweater, and her dark jeans were stuffed into a pair of fur-lined boots. She adjusted the green beret on her head and continued to peer out of the window with a pair of binoculars. Her name was Elizabeta, Matthew recalled. They had not officially been introduced yet, but Matthew had seen her around the lodge. He approached her.

“Good morning, eh,” Matthew said quietly.

She didn’t seem to have heard him.

Matthew cleared his throat. “Good morning!” he said a bit louder.

She turned this time, her green eyes lighting up with surprise. “Good morning to you too, um…” she replied, giving him a confused look.

“It’s Matthew,” he said. “I’m the new maid. I’ve been meaning to introduce myself but things have been a little hectic around here.”

Elizabeta smiled at him. “That’s okay, I understand!” she replied. “Thank you for introducing yourself!”

Matthew blushed lightly. “S-so,” he said, “may I ask what you’re looking at? You seemed pretty into whatever it was.”

“I-I’m…bird watching! Yes. I came to this lodge for the bird watching!” Elizabeta stuttered. “I just love birds!”

“Oh,” Matthew replied, “have you seen anything yet?” He himself was a bit fond of watching birds.

Elizabeta laughed nervously. “Of course! I’ve seen Hawks… and uh… Orioles! Lots and lots of Orioles!”

“Okay…” Matthew said skeptically. “Well I hope you find some more interesting birds.”

“Thank you! I do too!” She smiled, but Matthew could see was definitely uncomfortable with the conversation.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Matthew said, sending a small smile her way.

“Okay! Goodbye!” She turned back to the window and visibly relaxed as he walked away.

That was…

That was downright weird.

Matthew decided to keep a closer eye on Elizabeta from now on.

He continued on a little farther into the den and (not really to his surprise) found Alfred and Arthur sitting at the game table again. He was convinced that was the only thing those two did.

“Mattie!” Alfred exclaimed as the Canadian approached. “How are you feeling, bro? You ran off last night and weren’t at breakfast this morning and I was worried!”

“I’m fine, eh,” Matthew replied. “I was taking a shower this morning. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“That’s okay, bro,” Alfred said, patting him on the back rather roughly. He really didn’t know his own strength. “Breakfast was super weird anyway, wasn’t it Artie?” He turned to Brit, who had also seemed to have mastered the skill of “Alfred tuning-out” and was focused on the game before him.

“Uh huh,” Arthur mumbled, moving one of his geese. Alfred quickly jumped it with his fox piece. Arthur pouted and started strategically planning out his next move.

“Anyway,” Alfred continued, “I walked into the kitchen to ask Francis if he was making a heroic breakfast, and he told me he was making omelets and Canadian bacon. Dude, I was excited! I mean what’s more heroic than bacon? So I asked him to load my plate up with it!” He captured another of Arthur’s geese, causing the Brit to groan in irritation. “When he handed me my plate, it was covered in friggin _ham_. Ham! No bacon in sight! It was awful, bro.”

Matthew had been right with his earlier assumptions.

His brother really was a huge idiot.

Matthew was about to explain to Alfred that Canadian bacon and bacon he was thinking of were not the same thing when his brother continued on with his story.

“But that’s not even the weirdest thing!” Alfred said. “While I was asking Francis what the hell it was he had put on my plate (because it definitely wasn’t bacon), that big Russian skier guy walked in mumbling about something. I couldn’t really understand what he was saying because I’m pretty sure it wasn’t English, but it was still pretty freaky. He had like this dark aura about him too. I don’t trust that guy.”

Now that Matthew found suspicious.

“Is Ivan here now?” Matthew asked.

“Yep!” Alfred replied, jumping another of Arthur’s geese and apparently winning the game. Arthur groaned again and began to reset the board. “I think he’s downstairs doing something to his skis or something like that. Man, that dude can ski! I saw him out there the other day and he was all like ‘zippy zoom!’ It was crazy, bro!”

Alfred then began rambling on about a bunch of random things that had no relevance to anything, and Matthew decided to take his leave. The incident with Ivan that Alfred had described to him was beyond weird. Matthew decided that it was about time to have another talk with the Russian.

Matthew located the man rather quickly upon entering the basement. He did stand out, after all. He was bent over his skis and was rubbing something across the underside of them. Matthew guessed it was wax or something, but his knowledge of skis was pretty limited so he couldn’t be completely sure. The Russian was muttering to himself, but Matthew couldn’t really hear what he was saying.

“M-Mr. Braginski!” Matthew called as he approached.

The Russian glanced up from his work, a smile on his face that did not reach his eyes. “Ah, Matvey, what brings you down here?”

Matthew subconsciously shivered at the dark look in Ivan’s eyes. “Uh, I heard you very pretty upset about something earlier, and I was wondering if everything was okay?”

Ivan’s gaze darkened ever further. “ _Nyet_ ,” he replied shortly. “I have come across a few… problems, you could say.”

“What do you mean by that?” Matthew inquired.

Ivan visibly stiffened and looked as if he was about to respond when a voice from upstairs interrupted them.

“Matthew,” Berwald called, “Mr. Jones is on the ph’ne. Needs to talk to ya.”

Matthew sighed. “Guess I better go get that, eh?” he muttered.

Ivan chuckled, the dark feeling about him becoming a bit lighter. “We will talk another time, _da_? You go now.”

Matthew nodded and turned to head upstairs. Berwald handed him the phone as he approached the desk.

“Hello?” Matthew said into the receiver. “Dad?”

“Marty! I called to check up on things!” Mr. Jones’s loud, cheerful voice replied. “How are things going? Have you found anything interesting yet?”

Matthew’s mind immediately went to Gilbert. Sure, the man was strange (although, “strange” might be a bit of an understatement), but Matthew couldn’t really see him being responsible for the accidents at the lodge. And Matthew hadn’t really had the chance to really investigate anyone else because he was too preoccupied with Gilbert related things. He blushed a bit at this realization.

“Not yet, Dad,” he admitted. “I don’t really have any idea of where to go from here either.”

“No worries, son!” Mr. Jones said. “I have just the thing! Turn on the fax machine there by the computer and I’ll send it right over!”

Matthew noticed the clunky, white machine and pushed a button. ( _Who the heck uses fax machines anymore?_ ) It came to life with an annoying screech. “It’s on, eh.”

“Perfect! It should be coming in any moment now!”

The machine screeched again and a printed piece of paper shot out. Matthew grabbed it and looked it over. It was some sort of chart. The name of each guest was written across the top, a column of four blank spaces beneath each one. On the left side were a series of questions, each corresponding to a row of blank spaces. Matthew read them out loud.

“’Which side of the bed does the suspect get up from? What is the suspect’s hometown? Which planet in the solar system does the suspect identify with? Does the suspect hate paprika?’ …Dad, what the heck is this?”

“A survey that will lead us to the real culprit! I’ve been doing some investigating myself, and this detective website I found said that surveys were a great way to get information out of people! So, I created this one! Great plan, right?”

Matthew was completely dumbfounded. “Uh, sure, Dad. Whatever you say.”

“Wonderful! Just fax it back to me when you finish, alright? Oh! One more thing. Why don’t you try to give a call to the guests who left after the accidents? They might have some information for you. Just a thought! Well, I’ve got to run. We’ll talk again soon, Milligan!” The line went dead. Matthew stood there, the receiver still clutched in his hand.

_What the hell just happened?_

He placed the phone down and glanced at the survey in his hand. This thing is completely ridiculous, Matthew thought. Calling the former guests though… that might actually be a pretty good idea. Matthew turned to the computer and booted it up. Guest information should be on here somewhere… ah! There it is! A listing of guests’ names and phone numbers popped up on the screen. He scanned the list and wrote down the information of the one’s who had recently checked out.

_Matthias Køhler, Tino Väinämöinen, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo… I guess it’s time for a few more phone calls._

The Canadian sighed again.

He really was never going to catch a break, was he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crappy endings are crappy. That's all. Have a nice day.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I am but a poor college student. I can’t afford to own anything.

_A shot in the dark_

_A past lost in space_

_Where do I start?_

_The past and the chase?_

_You hunted me down_

_Like a wolf, a predator_

_I felt like a deer in your lights_

**_She Wolf-David Guetta (feat. Sia)_ **

* * *

 

Matthew tapped his fingers against the number pad as quickly as he could without making a mistake. He honestly just wanted to get this whole thing over and done with. The first person on his list to call was a man by the name of Matthias Køhler. Matthew didn’t particularly care for talking to people on the phone; he felt very uncomfortable if it wasn’t a call to family. The fact that he had to call up a complete stranger and drill them about their time at the lodge and all the potentially horrendous events that had to put up with during their stay… yeah, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the situation.

He held his breath as the phone began to ring. After a few seconds, Matthew thought (hoped, really) that no one was going to answer, but his dreams were dashed when a boisterous voice reached his ear.

“ _Hej!_ ”

Matthew was a bit taken back by the sudden, very loud, exclamation. He assumed it was some sort of greeting, so he responded.

“U-uh, hello!” he stuttered. Darn phone calls. “Is this M-Mr. Køhler?”

“ _Ja,_ this is Matthias. And who are yo-OOOOOOH NO YOU DON’T! GET BACK!” Matthias’s voice grew loud(er) and much more urgent. He sounded like he was in some sort of trouble.

“Mr. Køhler?!” he asked, concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“Hm? What?” Matthias replied.

“A-are you in trouble?”

“Huh? No! Everything is just fi-AAAAAAAAH DAMN IT WHERE’S THE AMMO?! RELOAD! RELOAD!” Matthew heard a groan. “This game is so dumb.”

…  
_Eh?!_

“G-game? What game? You’re playing a game?”

“Well, duuuuh,” Matthias replied. “I’m playing Destiny and the damn Fallen keep getting the jump on me in those annoying respawning restricted zones. What did you think was going on?”

Matthew felt his face heat up. “U-uh, well I thought you might have been in t-trouble or something. Like you were being attacked?”

An obnoxiously loud laugh boomed through the tiny phone speaker. “You… you actually thought I was in danger? Ha! That’s funny! I like you, uh… who are you, exactly?”

“O-Oh!” Matthew exclaimed. “S-sorry! My name is Matthew Williams. I’m calling from the Icicle Creek Lodge in Alberta, Canada. My records here say that you had a recent stay with us, a-and I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me? About you stay?”

“Icicle Creek Lodge, hm?” Matthias said, his tone slightly thoughtful. “Well, I didn’t really get to have much of a stay, to tell you the truth. I slipped on some icy stairs outside and broke my leg in two places the first day I was there and was shipped off home.”

“I-I’m so sorry!” Matthew gushed.

“Nah, don’t sweat it. I didn’t really want to be there anyway. Lukas was the one who really wanted to go on a romantic getaway, weren’t you, babe?” Matthew could faintly hear another voice on the other end of the line, and he jumped a bit when Matthias suddenly yelped.

“Playing games again?” Matthew asked.

“No. Lukas threw a spoon at my head. By the way, nice shot, babe!”

“Who is Lukas, if you don’t mind me asking?” Matthew inquired carefully.

“He’s my fiancée!” Matthias exclaimed proudly. “I’m on bed rest, so he’s been taking very good care of me, haven’t you, _Norge?_ Ow! Spoons are fine, but not the knives, babe! Anyway, we weren’t around that lodge for very long.”

“But, while you were there, do you remember seeing or hearing anything… strange?”

“Strange?” Matthias replied. “Now that you mention it, I remember hearing something about a wolf, I think it was? Yeah. There was some weirdo wolf wandering around in the woods near the lodge, but that’s the only thing I can think of. Like I said, we weren’t there long.”

“I see.” Matthew sighed. He didn’t think that there was much more that he could get from this conversation. All he had really learned is that the respawning restricted zones in Destiny were annoying, and that wasn’t a particularly helpful piece of information. “Well, thank you for your time. I hope your leg heals up nicely. And good luck with your game.”

“Thanks!” Matthias practically yelled. “I really think I’ve got them on the run this ti-DAMN IT!”

And with that, the line was disconnected and thus ended the most insane phone call Matthew felt he had ever had.

Unfortunately for him, he still had two more to make.

 _Oh, happy day_. With a sigh, he started to punch in the next number. To his surprise, and admittedly, his relief, he was sent to voicemail.

“Moi! You’ve reached Tino Väinämöinen! Sorry that I missed your call, I’m currently taking some time off, but if you’ll leave your name and contact information after the beep, I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can. Okay! Bye bye, then!”

_**BEEP** _

“H-hello, Mr. Väinämöinen. This is Matthew Williams from the Icicle Creek Lodge. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about your recent stay. U-um, I’m sure you have the Lodge’s contact information already. I’ll try you again later. O-or you can call me! Either way. Anyway, I hope you have a good rest of the day. Yeah. Um… Goodbye!”

Matthew placed the phone down and buried his face in his hands. Phone calls-2. Matthew-0.

He really wasn’t cut out for this.

He groaned as he entered the final number (Thank god) and listened to the now familiar ringing. It only rang about 3 times before it was answered.

“ _Un momento, por favor_ ,” the man on the other end requested before he started speaking to someone on his end. His voice had a natural cheerfulness to it, but Matthew could sense a hint of irritation in it. “Lovi, can you please find Sofia’s socks and cleats? We really need to get going!” There was a faint response (Matthew assumed it was “Lovi”) before the cheerful-sounding man spoke again to Matthew. “ _Lo siento, amigo._ You’ve reached the Vargas-Carriedo home, how can I help you?”

“Ah, yes. I’m Matthew Williams calling from Icicle Creek Lodge. I was wondering-”

“Icicle Creek Lodge? That sounds familiar. Where have I heard that before?” the cheerful man interrupted. “Lovi, do know where I’ve heard of Icicle Creek Lodge?”

“ _Icicle Creek?! Antonio, you idiota, you can’t remember anything important! Is that them on the phone?_ ” Matthew could barely make out the other voice. He sounded… well, he sounded pretty darn ticked off. “ _You know what, give the phone to me, dammit_.”

There was a shuffling sound as the phone changed hands. Matthew assumed the grumpy man, “Lovi” if he was correct, was now in possession of the device. “What the hell do you want?! Haven’t you screwed with us enough already, _bastardo?_ Who the fu-”

“ _Language, Lovino~_ ” Antonio warned gently from the background. “ _If you can’t think of something nice to say instead, just say muffin!_ ”

Lovino grumbled, clearly irritated at being spoken to like he was a child. “Who the _muffin_ do you think you are, calling us, hm?”

“U-uh,” Matthew stuttered, “I-I just wanted to ask you some questions about your stay. L-Like if anything strange happened while you were here?”

“ _Happened?!_ ” Lovino snapped. “What the fu-”

“ _Lovi._ ”

“Ugh. What the _muffin_ are you talking about? You jerks gave my little Sofia food poisoning, dammit!”

_Food poisoning? I remember Dad mentioning something about that._

“About that,” Matthew began, “what exactly happened?”

“She ate the damn food you served us up in that damn place and it made her sick, dammit! I told her to stay away from potatoes, but she ate that potato salad anyway. She was miserable for days! Although, she has no interest in potatoes anymore, so I will thank you for that much. But still! Damn you!” Lovino huffed and only seemed to grow more irritated by the second. Matthew was concerned that he was going to go off again when Antonio’s voice spoke up in the distance again.

“ _Lovi! It’s time to go! The fútbol game starts in 15 minutes!”_

“Dammit,” Lovino muttered. “I’m hanging up on you now, _bastardo_. And don’t expect us to ever come back again!” True to his word, Lovino abruptly disconnected the call.

Matthew placed the phone down and sighed deeply.

Yep.

Phone calls suck.

 

* * *

 

Matthew glared down at the piece of paper in his hands. This survey was literally the stupidest thing he had ever read. And he had once read a story Alfred had written about himself saving a family of hamburgers from a clan of vicious, psychopathic vegetarians. Yeah. The movie producer Alfred had sent it to thought it was dumb too.

Anyway, Matthew just couldn’t comprehend how in the world such stupid, random questions were going to help solve anything, but the past few days had been full of crazy, ridiculous, unexpected things, so he decided to give it a go.

He just hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

Because it was really, _really_ dumb.

He decided that checking the side of the bed that each guest got up on would have to wait until tomorrow’s room cleanings since he had already made the beds, so since it was starting to near meal time, he decided to give Francis a visit in the kitchen and see if he could add paprika to the meal in some way.

‘Cause that’s not strange or suspicious or anything.

He really was already regretting this.

 

* * *

 

Francis had given his a strange look, but had agreed to slip some paprika into whatever he was making (which somehow turned out to be hamburgers. Again). And Matthew didn’t even have to do anything weird to convince him, so all-in-all it worked out pretty well. He decided that he would quiz the guests on “which planet they identify with” while Francis was finishing up. He happened upon Alfred and Arthur sitting at their favorite game table, so he went over to talk to them first.

“Hey, Mattie!” Alfred greeted as Matthew approached. “Whatcha doin’?”

“I actually wanted to ask Arthur a quick question,” Matthew replied upon reaching the table.

“Oh?” The Brit raised a bushy brow. “Well, what is it then?”

“Um, I was just doing some thinking earlier about space and planets and stuff and I just thought to myself, I wonder what everyone else thinks about that stuff? So, uh, if you had to pick, which planet would you say you identify with?” Yeah, he was definitely regretting this.

“That’s a very interesting question,” Arthur replied, surprisingly intrigued by the question. “I’d have to say Mars. That whole ‘God of War’ thing, I suppose. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes!” Matthew said. “Thank you!” Matthew turned to leave as Alfred spoke up.

“Waaaaait! What about me? Aren’t you going to ask me?”

Matthew sighed. He didn’t actually need this information from Alfred, and as much as he’d like to just walk away, he knew how annoying Alfred could get if he felt like he was being ignored.

“Sure, Al,” Matthew replied with a groan. “Which planet do you identify with?”

“Planet X!”

“Um, Al, I meant in our solar system.”

“Planet X!” Alfred insisted.

“Al, there is no Planet X.”

“There will be.”

Matthew decided it was a good idea to walk away after all.

As he left the table (Alfred was still babbling on about Planet X and something about aliens and government cover-ups), Matthew he caught a glimpse of Elizabeta over by the window looking out through binoculars again. He decided to speak to her about the wonders of the universe next.

“Hello,” he greeted softly as he neared where she was standing.

She lowered her binoculars and turned towards him, flashing a smile. “Hello!” she greeted back. “Is there something you need?”

“Uh,” Matthew took a breath, “I was just wondering, which planet would you say that you identify with?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “Earth,” she replied. “No, wait. Make that Venus… No. Earth. No, actually Venus. No. Earth.”

“Okay,” Matthew said after receiving her answer. At least, what he _thought_ was her answer. “Thank you.” He sent her a smile and turned to leave.

“Wait!” she called. “I’d like to ask you something too, if that’s okay.”

“Alright,” he replied. “What is it?”

She paused for a moment, as if she was thinking very hard about what she was going to say. Finally, she spoke. “Have you seen the wolf that’s been wandering around outside the lodge?”

“No. I’ve heard it though. Why?”

“N-No reason!” she stuttered. “Just be careful while you’re outside. Wolves are dangerous creatures. They can be very… unpredictable.”

“Okay, I’ll be careful then.” Matthew appreciated her warning, but it definitely was peculiar. He gave her a small nod and then decided to take his leave.

Now, he only had one more guest he needed to ask this ridiculous question. Ivan. Honestly, Matthew was a bit apprehensive about speaking to the intimidating skier again; he hadn’t seemed all that happy earlier, and Matthew could only hope that his mood had improved. With a breath to calm himself, Matthew descended down the stairs and into the basement.

Ivan was standing in his usual spot, fiddling with his skis like normal. The man seemed to be in a bit of a better mood, so Matthew decided it was (hopefully) alright to approach him.

“Ah, hello, Matvey. You have come back. Perhaps to finish our earlier talk?” Ivan greeted when he noticed the Canadian standing there (which did honestly take a bit of time, much to Matthew’s chagrin).

“Hello, Mr. Braginski,” Matthew returned. He hadn’t actually come down to finish that conversation, but if Ivan was willing, maybe space questions could wait for a bit. “Y-yes. I wanted to ask you some more about what happened earlier.”

“I see.” Ivan stopped working with his skis and gave Matthew a (bit intimidating) look. “You want to know why I was upset, _da?_ I will tell you. But first, you answer me a question. What do you know about man-wolves?”

“Man-wolves?” Matthew questioned. “Like people who can transform into wolves or something? I don’t really know much about that kind of stuff. I mean, it’s not real, right?”

Ivan grunted thoughtfully. “Perhaps, perhaps. Anyway you answer my question, now I answer yours. You see, earlier when I was outside skiing very fast, I was almost attacked by the wolf! It came out from trees and jumped at me. If I hadn’t been as good on skis as I am, he would have caught me. That wolf is dangerous. I think it should be hunted down.”

“Hunted down?” Matthew asked in disbelief. “Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

“Matvey,” Ivan said, his tone growing dark and heavy, “there are many things about those creatures that you do not understand. They are evil. Do not think otherwise.”

Matthew was stunned into silence. He had never seen such a menacing look in someone’s eyes before. It sent chills down his spine. “O-okay,” he stuttered. “I understand.”

“Good.” Ivan’s tone had lightened slightly. “Is there anything else you need?”

It was then that Matthew remembered the whole reason he had come to speak to Ivan in the first place. That darn planet question.

“Actually,” Matthew began, feeling incredibly embarrassed, even though he had asked this question multiple times now, “which planet would you say you identified with?”

“Pluto,” Ivan responded immediately.

“Well, Pluto’s not actually a planet anymore.”

“That is exactly the point,” Ivan defended. “Pluto stirs up passion and controversy. Yet it continues undaunted on its course. As do I. Pluto and I—we are like brothers.”

 _…_  
_Okaaaaaaay…?_

“Okay, then…” Matthew said, surprised at how… elaborate Ivan’s answer was. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Matvey, you can come talk to me,” Ivan told him.

“Alright,” Matthew replied. “I’ll remember that. By the way, I think lunch is just about ready, so be sure to come up and eat.”

“I will. Thank you, Matvey.”

Ivan flashed him a small (very, very small) smile, and Matthew returned upstairs to see how lunch was coming along.

 

* * *

 

Apparently, Alfred didn’t like paprika.

Correction.

Alfred _hated_ paprika with a passion so fiery it rivaled the combined flames of the nine circles of hell.

Yeah, it was that bad.

He claimed it had “ruined the integrity of the burger” and “took away from the classic flavor palate” and a bunch of other random things that Matthew shopped listening to because 1.) he really didn’t care and 2.) he was responsible for cleaning up the bits of burger Alfred had spit onto the floor after taking his first bite and discovering the horror of paprika.

And, for the record, Alfred didn’t take small bites.

And he had spit it _all_ out.

Matthew’s cursing of his brother continued.

None of the guests (other than Alfred though, obviously) seemed to have and problem with the paprika, so Matthew could now fill out that part of the survey as well (which just got dumber the longer he looked at it). He had already collected the hometown information from the computer behind the information desk, so all that he had to do was find out which side of the bed each of them got up on. Since that he had decided to do that during his maid duties the next morning, he thought that it would be a good idea to tuck in a little early that night and get some good rest.

So, after dinner, he went back up to his room, closed the door, slipped into his maple leaf pajamas, snuggled up with Kumagoron, and got ready to enjoy a nice, long night of sleep.

At least, that was the plan.

 

* * *

 

It was about 2:30 in the morning when Matthew jolted awake, cold sweat covering his face and running down his exposed neck, chilling him further as each drop got lower and lower.

He had dreamed of red.

Dark, deep, blood red drenching a blanket of white in its crimson stain.

He had dreamed of the color of Gilbert’s eyes. But it was so, so different.

Gilbert’s eyes were warm, inviting; full of hope and happiness and loneliness all at the same time. They were beautiful and terrifying and intoxicating. They were more than just red. But the color he had just seen only possessed one thing.

Pain. Complete and utter suffering.

As much as Gilbert’s eyes terrified him, the color in his dream brought on a whole new kind of terror to his mind.

He needed to see Gilbert again.

_Now._

Without thinking twice, Matthew began to race down the stairs and to the front door. He pulled on his boots and coat as quickly as he could and flung himself through the doorway. He ran, cautiously as possible so as not to slip, and he tried to remember the way back to Gilbert’s lonely cabin.

Matthew couldn’t shake the horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew that Gilbert was practically a stranger to him; in fact he knew next to nothing about the man. But as he remembered that lonely, far-off look in Gilbert’s eyes, and how they had lit up when Matthew promised to return, he couldn’t help but want to rush back to Gilbert’s side.

Especially now, when he felt such an ominous force pressing down on the entire forest. He was worried beyond belief, and wished his feet would carry him faster to his destination.

It was when he approached a small clearing in the trees that he saw it.

A white wolf, sitting calmly in the snow and gazing at the stars in an almost longing way.

Matthew found it beautiful and somehow so sad at the same time. He found himself unable to move, completely mesmerized by the sight before him. The snow beneath his feet crunched lightly as he shifted his weight, and the wolf’s ears twitched at the sound.

Matthew gasped as the creature turned its snowy head in his direction and a pair of crimson eyes met his.

Those eyes.

He had seen those eyes before.

But it couldn’t be…

While he was so distracted by those incredible eyes, he had failed to notice that the wolf had begun to walk towards him. Slowly, cautiously, as if it was as frightened of him as he was of it.

Because he was. Matthew had never been so frightened in his whole life. But even though every part of him was telling him to run, he found himself frozen to the spot where he stood.

The wolf stopped just inches from Matthew’s feet and looked up at him with those glowing eyes. Matthew’s heart was racing in his chest, and he felt himself shaking; out of fear or something else entirely, he wasn’t sure. He reached out a cautious hand towards the creature, as if to tell it that he had no intention of harming it. To his surprise, the wolf stretched out his neck and brushed his muzzle against the palm of Matthew’s hand before giving it a small lick.

“That tickles,” Matthew muttered, chuckling softly. He could’ve sworn those eyes lit up even more as he spoke. It was like they were smiling at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back down at them.

However, that smile was gone in an instant as the sound of a single gunshot rang out in the still night and the wolf collapsed on the snow.

That pure, clean, white snow, the same color as the fur of the wolf.

Both were slowly becoming the horrible, terrifying red of Matthew’s dream.

The red of pain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that bit about Destiny earlier was me taking out my internal frustration with that wonderful, infuriating game.  
> That's all I have to say, I guess.  
> Have a cookie.  
> Bye bye.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: You guys should know by now that I don’t own anything, right?

 

_Oh the werewolf, the werewolf_

_Comes stepping along_

_He don't even break the branches where he's gone_

_Once I saw him in the moonlight, when the bats were flying_

_I saw the werewolf, and the werewolf was crying_

**_Werewolf-Cat Power_ **

 

* * *

 

As he saw that deep crimson spreading across the snow, Matthew felt his own blood run cold. His eyes scanned around the clearing feverishly, but there was no sign of the shooter to be found. Deciding that was not priority at the moment, Matthew fell to his knees next to the injured animal.

From what he could tell, just by looking, the wolf’s side had been scraped by the bullet. It didn’t look like anything too horribly serious, but there was no way to know for sure unless he got a closer look. A low growl resonated from the wolf as Matthew reached out to inspect the wound.

“Please,” Matthew pleaded, “let me help you.”

Matthew reached out again, but this time the wolf snapped at him, causing the Canadian to retract his hand quickly. With a whimper, the wolf began to stand.

“Wait!” Matthew warned. “You shouldn’t move around. Let me look at your wound first!”

He received another growl as a response.

Before Matthew could even think of stopping it, the wolf had suddenly (with a whine of pain) taken off into the trees. Matthew was stunned for a moment that the creature could still move so quickly even after being injured, but he quickly regained himself and took off after it.

“Stop!” he yelled. “Please, wait!”

It was no use, Matthew was just far too slow to keep the wolf in his sights.

Thankfully, the wolf left behind a trail that Matthew could follow relatively easily.

Not that he was thankful that the wolf was injured.

It just made it easier to follow him.

…

Anyway, Matthew followed the winding trail through the trees as best as he could. It was the middle of the night, but the moon was full and bright and helped illuminate the snowy path. It was extremely cold outside, though, and Matthew found himself shivering more and more with each step he took. If his speculation about his destination were correct, he should be able to warm up once he got there.

As he spotted Gilbert’s cabin growing larger in the distance, he knew he had been right.

_But did that mean…?_

He found that the door was open, so he cautiously walked inside.

“Gilbert…?” he called. “Are you here?” He glanced around the small interior of the cabin, but it was so dark he could hardly see anything.

“Go away!” he heard Gilbert growl from somewhere in the room. Matthew took another step inside.

“Gil?” Matthew found himself using the nickname again. “Where are you, Gil?”

“Please,” Gilbert pleaded. “Please just go.” His voice sounded so broken and it crushed Matthew.

Matthew heard a noise come from near the bed on the right side of the room so he cautiously took a step in that direction.

“Gil, it’s okay.” Matthew could see a bit of white glowing in the darkened room. “It’s okay.” He could clearly see Gilbert huddled behind the bed now. “I just want to help you. Will you let me? Please, just come out and let me help you.”

The room grew silent as Matthew waited for Gilbert’s response. The seconds felt like hours before he finally spoke up.

“I-I… I didn’t want you to see me like this, _Vögelchen_ ,” he all but whispered. “It’s just so… unawesome.”

Matthew felt his heart break.

“G-Gil.”

Gilbert had begun to stand, and Matthew finally got a good look at him. Without the yellow hat, Matthew could clearly see a pair of snow white wolf ears perched upon his head. They would twitch every so often, and Matthew found it kind of cute.

Not only did Gilbert possess a pair of ears, but a fluffy, white tail as well. It swished back and forth behind him.

Matthew could now clearly see the gash in Gilbert’s side where the bullet had connected with his skin. It wasn’t very large, but it was bleeding pretty heavily and looked like it hurt a lot.

Oh, and one more thing.

Gilbert was naked.

Very, _very_ naked.

Matthew felt his face heat up, and tried to focus on the wound on the man’s side instead of…

Yeah.

“W-we need to get you cleaned up,” Matthew said, blush increasing by the second.

Gilbert noticed and immediately returned to his normal, arrogant self. “Are you feeling okay, _Vögelchen_? Your face is a little red.”

“Shut up,” Matthew muttered, feeling a bit bold. “Lay down so I can get a better look at you.”

“A _better look, Vögelchen_?”

“Shut. Up.” Matthew’s face felt like it was on fire. “A-and put on some damn pants,” he mumbled.

Gilbert chucked, but he did as he was asked.

_Thank god._

Matthew honestly didn’t know how much more of that he could’ve taken. And what the heck was with that crazy mood swing just now? Gilbert was confusing him more and more the longer he was around him.

After Gilbert had slipped on a pair of loose jeans (again, thank god), he laid down on the bed so Matthew could get a “better look” at his wound. Thankfully, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it really should’ve been. Matthew gently ran his fingertips across the smooth, pale skin surrounding the gash.

Oh, yeah. Gilbert had muscles too.

Matthew felt like his blush was never going to go away.

“Do you have anything I could use to clean this up?” Matthew asked, moving his fingers a little closer to the laceration. “I don’t want you to get an infection or anything.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gilbert replied.

“But, Gil,” Matthew insisted, “if we don’t get this cleaned, you could get really sick!”

“ _Vögelchen_ , just trust me. It’ll be fine. I’m much too awesome to get an infection anyway.”

“But-”

“ _Gott,_ stop nagging and just look.” Gilbert gestured to his wound, which had somehow already began to close up, leaving nothing but a slightly pink area, but otherwise no indication that there had ever been a cut there at all. Well, besides the blood that had already dried around the area.

“Wow,” Matthew breathed.

“I told you. Nothing to worry about.” Gilbert flashed him a cocky smile and sat up on the bed.

Matthew started at him in disbelief. There were just so many questions to ask, and he wasn’t really sure where to start. So, he decided to be blunt.

“Gilbert,” he began, “I don’t mean this to sound rude or anything but… what exactly are you?”

“Awesome?” Gilbert replied.

“Gil, I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

“ _Gil_.”

“Look, _Vögelchen,_ I know, okay? It’s just…” His ears twitched again, and he let out a deep sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“I see,” Matthew said, clearly disappointed at the lack of explanation.

Gilbert picked up on it and sighed again. “I don’t really know what to tell you. _Gott_ , this is so unawesome.”

“How about you just start from the beginning?” Matthew suggested timidly.

Gilbert nodded and took a deep breath before speaking again. “Well, I’m what you would call a werewolf, I guess. Kind of. I’m not a Pure Blood, which is why I can’t take on a complete human form.” The white ears perched on his head twitched once more as if to make their point. “ _Mein Vater_ was a human, but _meine Mutter_ was a Pure Blood werewolf.”

“And… what does all that mean, exactly?” Matthew prodded gently.

“It means that I don’t have a place, _Vögelchen,_ ” Gilbert replied in a sorrowful way that jabbed right at Matthew’s heart. “There’s nowhere that I belong. The Pure Bloods shun me and humans think I’m a monster.”

“B-but,” Matthew began, “what about your family?”

Gilbert gazed at Matthew with those terrifying blood-red eyes. Matthew felt his entire body shiver at the intensity in that one look. He had never seen Gilbert look so serious before. He never knew such pain and loneliness could possibly be expressed in one look. If he didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn Gilbert looked almost on the brink of tears.

And it completely shattered Matthew’s heart.

“Relationships between humans and werewolves are forbidden, _Vögelchen,_ ” Gilbert finally replied, his voice now barely above a whisper. “They’re dead. Slaughtered by the Pure Bloods right after my fourth birthday. I’m the only one left.”

Gilbert’s expression suddenly changed and with knit eyebrows he reached out a pale hand and caressed Matthew’s cheek. Matthew felt his heart speed up as Gilbert’s thumb gently rubbed the area under his right eye, wiping away a tear that Matthew didn’t even realize he had let escape.

“C’mon now, _Vögelchen_ , it’s unawesome to cry,” Gilbert said gently as more and more warm tears ran down Matthew’s flushed cheeks.

“I-” Matthew managed between his increasing sobs, “I’m s-so sorry, Gil. Y-you’ve been so alone all this time, haven’t you? You must have been so sad and so lonely. It’s just awful!”

Gilbert chuckled lightly and wiped away more of the Canadian’s streaming tears. “It’s okay, _Vögelchen_ , really. I’m too awesome to let something like that get me down! Besides, I wasn’t alone. I had Old Fritz!”

Matthew sniffled. “Who’s Old Fritz?”

Gilbert’s face lightened at the question, and his eyes regained a bit of their natural twinkle of mischievousness. “He was this awesome old guy that took me in after…” he paused and his face fell a bit. “Anyway, he took me in and brought me to live with him here. He taught me all kinds of stuff like how to read and write and take care of myself.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “He was the most awesome person ever, besides me, obviously.”

Matthew felt himself smile a bit as Gilbert talked about this “Old Fritz.” Gilbert clearly held him in the highest regard by the way he lit up from just talking about the man.

However, there was something that was bothering Matthew, and he couldn’t help but ask.

“Gil?” Matthew began, hoping the question wouldn’t ruin the light mood they had just managed to create. “W-where’s Old Fritz now? You mentioned he brought you to live with him out here but I haven’t seen any sign of him around.”

Gilbert sighed, and Matthew feared he had pried too far. With a sad smile, Gilbert answered his question.

“He was an old man, _Vögelchen,_ even when I first met him. Not even awesomeness can stop someone from getting old. He passed away a few years ago.” Gilbert flashed Matthew a warning look. “Don’t you dare go and start crying on me again. I’m telling you, it’s not awesome.”

Matthew sniffled again but found himself chuckling lightly. “Whatever you say, Gil. But I was wondering… would you tell me about him?”

“I just did, didn’t I?” Gilbert replied. “Or were you too distracted by my awesomeness to pay attention?”

“No,” Matthew argued gently, “I mean tell me about him. From the beginning. Like… how you met.”

Gilbert looked a little uncomfortable and released a deep sigh. “It’s not a happy story, _Vögelchen_.”

“I-I know!” Matthew replied passionately. “But I…” his face warmed at the thought of what he was about to say, and his eyes flickered down towards the flood, “I just want to know more about you, so…” He trailed off, unable to look up at Gilbert’s face.

If he had, he might have caught a glimpse of the light pink that dusted his pale cheeks. “O-” Gilbert’s voice cracked a bit in embarrassment, and he stopped to clear his throat. “Okay then. But no crying!”

Matthew nodded and Gilbert sighed again as he began to tell the Canadian his story.

 

* * *

  
Gilbert adjusted the too-large coat around his small frame as he gazed up into the night sky. Night was his favorite time. It was so calm and quiet and peaceful, not to mention he was captivated by the sparkling lights that shone above him. His mother had called them “stars” and told him that they were actually like giant balls of fire burning far, far away, but Gilbert felt like maybe if he just grew up a little bit more he’d be able to reach out and grab a handful. He’d like to give them to his mother as a present; she’d definitely like that.

Gilbert stood on the tips of his toes and stretched out his arm as far as it would go, but only managed to grab a handful of air. He pouted a bit as he looked down into his empty palm. He would definitely grow big and strong and be able to touch those stars someday.

The fluffy white ears perched on Gilbert’s head twitched as he heard someone calling out to him in the distance. He turned to face the direction of the call and saw his mother standing in the doorway, the warm light from inside glowing behind her and giving her an almost angelic appearance. She reminded Gilbert of a star.

“Gilbert!” she called out again. “It’s time to come inside and take your bath!”

Gilbert groaned, but obeyed his mother and began the walk back towards their home.

Because of Gilbert’s… condition, his parents thought it necessary to shelter him from others as much as possible. They feared what might happen to him if he was ever discovered, by humans or the Pure Bloods, so they lived in a very secluded part of the Canadian forest, where it would be easiest to hide Gilbert away. They didn’t want to live the way they did, in a constant state of fear and alarm, but it was really the only way for them to keep themselves safe.

Gilbert didn’t particularly mind living where they did, but he was curious as to the reason why he was not allowed to go into town with his father, or why he had ears and a tail and his parents did not. He had asked his parents those questions before, but they had merely replied that Gilbert was very, very special, and that he shouldn’t worry about such things.

Gilbert shivered as the wind picked up a bit and nipped at his reddened nose. It was mid-January, and it was extremely cold out during this time of year. Sometimes, Gilbert would slip into his parent’s bed and snuggle up between them just to get a little extra warmth. His parents welcomed him in kindly; his mother would wrap her arms around him and give him a kiss on the nose while his father would ruffle the fluffy hair on his head with a laugh before they all drifted back to sleep.

They were happy.

“Hurry up, Gilbert!” his mother chided gently from the doorway. “It’s freezing outside!”

“ _Ja, Mutti!_ ” Gilbert called back as he rushed towards her, as fast his short little legs would carry him. His pure white tail was a bit too long compared to the rest of him, and it dragged along behind him, leaving a trail in the snow. Occasionally, he would even trip on it and stumble, but he would always get right back up again.

His mother watched his approach with a fond smile and stepped to the side to let him in the door. His cheeks were flushed red, and he was huffing to try to regain control of his breathing. His mother knelt down closer his level and started to take off his large, puffy coat.

“ _Mutti?_ ” Gilbert said as his coat was removed from his small shoulders.

“Hm?” his mother replied, glancing at him with dark, reddish-brown eyes as she untied his boots.

“When is _Vati_ coming home?”

She removed his boots and started leading him over to a tub by the fireplace that was already filled with warm water. She helped him take off the rest of his clothes and set him in the water before responding. “He should be back soon, dear.” She pushed her long, silvery-blonde hair out of her face and filled a pitcher with some of the warm water.

“Close your eyes,” she instructed as she poured the water over Gilbert’s head. His ears twitched and sent a bit of the spray towards her. She chuckled lightly and began to rub some soap against her son’s scalp, being extra gentle around his sensitive ears. She filled the pitcher once more and washed the soap away.

“ _Mutti?_ ” Gilbert spoke up again.

“Yes, dear?” his mother replied patiently.

“Why am I different than you and _Vati_?”

His mother sighed (after all, they had been over this many times before), but smiled at her son and started to gently rub his wet hair with a towel.

“There’s nothing wrong with being different, dear,” she reassured him. “You’re a very special boy. Your father and I love you very much, and no matter what you look like, that will never change. Being different is your greatest gift; it is an awesome gift. So don’t worry about it, alright? Just always be yourself.” She removed the towel from his head and chuckled at the mess of fluff his hair had become.

“What’s ‘awesome?’” Gilbert wondered.

“It means something is amazing and great.”

“So, am I awesome, _Mutti?_ ” Gilbert asked, looking up at his mother with sparkling, excited red eyes.

She laughed and kissed his fluffy head. “Yes, Gilbert. You are the most awesome.”

Gilbert smiled widely. “You are awesome too, _Mutti!_ ”

“Thank you, dear,” his mother replied with a smile. “Now, let’s get you dressed and ready for bed.”

Gilbert groaned and grudgingly got out of the tub. His mother dried him off and dressed him in a pair of warm pajamas. Just as they were about to head to his bed, the front door opened and Gilbert’s father stepped in from the cold.

“ _Vati!_ ” Gilbert called as the man entered. He ran over and attached himself to one of the tall man’s legs.

His father’s blue eyes sparkled as he glanced down at his son tightly hugging against his leg. “Hello, Gilly.” He patted Gilbert’s hair with a chuckle. “Getting ready for bed?”

Gilbert nodded and released his father’s leg. “ _Ja!_ And _Mutti_ said I was awesome!”

“Oh really?” His father shot a look at his wife, who simply shrugged and smiled lightly. “Well, even awesome people need to get to bed on time. After all, we have a big day tomorrow, don’t we?”

Gilbert looked up at his father, a confused expression on his face before something seemed to click in his mind and he gasped, eyes growing wide. “ _Vati!_ Tomorrow is my birthday!”

“That’s right! And I have something very special planned for you, but it’s in town. How about you go with me to get it tomorrow?”

Gilbert froze. “With you? You mean, I get to go into town with you?”

“Yes!” His father smiled. “How does that sound?”

“Dear,” Gilbert’s mother interjected gently, “I’m not sure if that-”

“It’ll be alright,” he reassured her. “I’ll keep track of him. We’ll only be gone for a little while anyway.”

She didn’t seem convinced, but held in her concerns and nodded in agreement.

“Perfect!” Gilbert’s father exclaimed. “We’ve got to get up early tomorrow morning, so you’d best to right to bed, Gilly, okay?”

“ _Ja!_ ” Gilbert replied immediately, already heading towards his bed. “ _Gute Nacht, Mutti, Vati!_ ”

“ _Gute Nacht,_ Gilly.”

 

* * *

  
Gilbert was the first to wake the next morning, and excitedly ran over to his parents and jumped on their bed until they got up as well.

“Happy birthday!” they both wished him once he had finally roused them.

Gilbert’s mother helped him get dressed as his father prepared some breakfast for the three of them. She had managed to conceal his tail underneath his clothes (which he found a bit uncomfortable, but didn’t complain) and used one of his father’s old hats (a bright yellow one) to cover up the ears on his head. After a quick breakfast, he and his father put on their coats and boots and headed out the door.

“Be careful, please,” Gilbert’s mother softly pleaded.

“We will, I promise,” his father replied, placing a soft kiss on his wife’s lips before leading Gilbert over to where their large truck was parked.

 

* * *

  
The drive into to town took a few hours, and Gilbert was practically bouncing in his seat the entire time. He had never been into town before, and the only other people he had ever seen besides his parents were his mom’s younger sister and her daughter, who would drop by occasionally and were very understanding about Gilbert’s condition despite being from a line of Pure Bloods themselves. Gilbert couldn’t wait to arrive in town and see all the things he had missed out on so far.

He was amazed as they closed in on the town. It wasn’t very large, but Gilbert had never seen so many people before. He never imagined that there were this many other people in the world! His father chuckled when he glanced over and caught his son gaping out of the window.

“You like it here, Gilly?” he asked.

Gilbert was still too stunned to speak and only nodded in reply, his mouth hanging open in amazement.

“I’m glad. I wish I could bring you out here more often, but I thought that since today is very special, we could make an exception.” His father made a few turns here and there and eventually pulled into a spot in front of a small shop. “Here we are! Do you know what this is, Gilly?” Gilbert shook his head. “This is a pet shop. We’re here so you can pick out a pet to take home with us today.”

Gilbert’s eyes grew impossibly larger. “Really, _Vati?_ ”

“Yep! Are you ready?”

Gilbert nodded energetically and his father got out of the car and came over to help the small boy get out. He lifted him from the seat and set him down on the pavement.

“Now, Gilly, this is very important, I need you to stay with me and- Gilly! Wait!”

Gilbert had gotten overly excited and run off before his father had a chance to stop him. Just as he was approaching the entrance of the shop, the door flung open and Gilbert collided with the legs of the man that had just exited.

“Gilly!” Gilbert’s father ran over to where his son, who was currently staring up at the tower of a man he had just run into. “I-I’m so sorry about that!” he apologized. “Gilly! I told you not to run off like that!”

Gilbert pouted at being scolded and looked down at his boots.

“It is okay,” the strange man replied. He looked down at Gilbert. “You should be more careful though. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt, _da?_ ” And with that he excused himself and continued on down the street before Gilbert’s father could say another word.

“Sorry, _Vati,_ ” Gilbert muttered, still looking down at his feet.

His father sighed and placed a hand gently on his son’s head. “It’s alright, Gilbert. Just stay with me from now on, okay?”

Gilbert nodded and his father led him into the store.

Gilbert found the pet he wanted almost immediately. “Look, _Vati! Ein Vögelchen!_ ” Gilbert pointed a small finger in the direction of a birdcage that housed a small, yellow canary inside. “I want that one!”

“A bird, Gilly? Really?” his father questioned.

_“Ja!”_ Gilbert insisted.

His father shrugged. _“Ja, ja,_ if that’s really what you want, Gilly.”  
Gilbert watched as his father spoke to the clerk about purchasing the bird and could barely contain his excitement when the cage was placed gently into his hands. His father spoke with the clerk for a minute longer about the kinds of things they would need to care for the bird and such; Gilbert wasn’t really paying attention as he was distracted by the little bird before him.

“Have a nice day!” the clerk wished them as they turned to leave.

_“Danke!_ ” Gilbert’s father replied. “You too! Say thank you, Gilly.”

“ _Danke schön!_ ” Gilbert said with a large smile as his father led them back towards the truck.

After Gilbert was strapped in securely, his bird right beside him of course, his father climbed into the truck and started the engine. “So, Gil,” he began, “what are you going to name your bird?”

“I get to name it?” Gilbert asked.

“Of course! You can name it anything you want.”

Gilbert stared at the little bird in the cage, trying to come up with a suitable name for him. “How about… Gil…bird?” he suggested.

“Gilbird?” his father repeated, chuckling a little at the name. “That sounds like a great name.”

Gilbert smiled proudly. “It’s an awesome name!”

His father laughed and happened to glance over as Gilbert let loose a wild yawn.

“Why don’t you rest, Gilly? I’ll wake you up when we get home.”

Gilbert nodded and was already asleep before he could even respond.

 

* * *

  
Upon arriving home, Gilbert was awoken as promised and rushed inside to show his mother his new pet, Gilbird. She too was a bit amused by the name, and smiled down at him sweetly.

“That’s great, dear. Why don’t you go put Gilbird down and get changed? We’re going to eat lunch soon.”

Gilbert nodded and ran off to his room.

The remainder of the day passed all too quickly for Gilbert’s liking. His mother had prepared his favorite meal and desert for his birthday dinner (warm potato soup and German chocolate cake), and he spent the few hours he had before dinner trying to teach Gilbird tricks, which was a lot more difficult than he had originally thought it would be. His mother called him to the table and freed him from the irritation he was beginning to feel at how unawesome Gilbird was being for not listening to him.

He joined his parents at the table and enjoyed his birthday meal with them, laughing and talking and just having a good time. Gilbert really loved his parents, and even at such a young age he knew how important they were to him. He loved just sitting around with them; spending time together and playing around. He wanted things to stay like this forever.

He never wanted the happiness to end.

When dinner was through, he was given another bath and then was dressed for bed. He snuggled into his warm sheets and rested his head against the cold, fluffy pillow, adjusting his body so he could lay comfortably with his tail. Gilbird was set on the table next to his bed, at Gilbert’s insistence of course, and his cage was covered with a thin sheet for the night. After they were sure he was settled in, Gilbert’s parents each placed a soft kiss on his forehead, wishing him a gentle good night before extinguishing the light and leaving the room.

He listened to their footsteps disappear down the hall, and felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier by the minute. He finally gave in and allowed them to fall, mumbling a quiet phrase before gently drifting off to sleep.

_“Mutti… Vati… I love you.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo this is the last of the chapters that I already have written, so updates will start slowing down from here on out (Although, I'm about a quarter of the way through 8, so it shouldn't be too horribly long).  
> Anyway, thank you guys for reading and for the sweet comments and kudos as well. They seriously make my day. :)


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